Etheria: Death And Ressurrection
by Julie5
Summary: Book 2 Adora's Betrayal: War is come to Etheria; sacrifices must be made. UPDATED Added ch 18 19 20
1. Arrival in the East

Chapter 1: Meetings and new beginnings in Shaddamite  
  
Gulls, screamed in hunger; high pitched and shrill, painful and discordant, the harsh cries mingling with the steady thunk, thunk, thunk of murky green sea splashing lightly against a hollow wooden hull. A short, sharp bark of laughter carried on the wind, traveling over the deck ,waking the Enchantress from her slumber. For a moment she couldn't recall where she was. Swiftly, calling her magic from deep inside herself, she cradled it tightly in her chest, ready to release it in a powerful wave of light and heat. Then she heard the Sea Hawk's powerful voice call out and she relaxed. She was on a ship, today was the day they disembarked in Shaddamite to join the rebellion there and bring freedom to the people of Etheria.  
  
Rising languorously from the fur mat in her makeshift quarters , her long, luxurious, mahogany hair fell across her dark eyes, as the ship gently rocked beneath her; she blew it in annoyance. Moaning in protest as she banished the last dregs of sleep from her mind, long graceful fingers pushed it back over her head, her entire body stretching as she did so, her back arcing with feline grace as slender arms reached over her head. Throwing back her neck, she let out a lusty yawn, reveling in the sensation of sleep fleeing her body in a fluttering wash of laziness.  
  
Reaching beneath her mat and pulling out a brush she began the arduous task of taming the unruly assortment of silken tresses. Grabbing a handful of hairpins she pulled the bulk of the mass atop her head in a tight bun, accentuating her patrician cheekbones, her hair was so thick, two feet still fell in a gentle cascade down her back. Standing, she began pulling on a pair of gold-boots, she straightened her collar and hoping she looked presentable, stepped out of the small tent into the bright sunlight streaming through marshmellow cumulus.  
  
"Hard to port men, keep her steady;" the captain shouted, "Sven, keep an eye out for Horde ships while we're gone." Castaspella braced herself as the ship lurched and turned about, her eyes fell upon the commanding presence of the captain. He was a handsome man, dark and rugged, his skin burnished by the loving kiss of sun and sea, his mouth had a full rakish tilt and his eyes a wicked sparkle. It was easy to see why women were so attracted to him. He had a lust for life rare on Etheria. She understood why two of her dearest friends had fallen for him. Sadly, only one won him. She swayed lightly as the ship righted itself and the anchor dropped.  
  
"Furl the sails, keep your eyes peeled." The captain called, he turned, saw her standing there and smiled, waving her over to his side. Castaspella gritted her teeth. The only thing that irked her about this man was his imperious attitude as if he was in charge of everyone and everything. She assumed it came with the territory of being a captain. She of all people understood command. Sedately she moved to his side.  
  
"Good morning captain." She sang softly in her gentle voice. He grinned, baring a perfect row of white teeth, Casta grimaced inwardly, why couldn't he at least have the crooked teeth and fetid breath one might expect of a pirate? A moment later she mentally kicked herself at that spiteful thought.  
  
"Good morning m'lady, are your people ready to meet the freedom fighters of Shaddamite?"  
  
"Aye- I mean yes captain." She blushed as he threw back his head in amusement a long deep chuckle issuing from his wide muscular chest.  
  
"Ah, lass, not even with us a full cycle of the moon and already ye talk like a seasoned sea-man!"  
  
"Eeey-yaah!" A playful scream carried across the ship as a diminutive red head ran bare-foot full tilt across the deck, a pair of doeskin capri's clinging to her long slender legs and a tight white blouse with puffy sleeves atop her torso, her navel peeking playfully through. Leaping lightly into the Sea Hawks arms she wrapped her legs around his waist and they shared a deep but brief kiss of passion. Casta, glanced away, uncomfortable, not merely with the display of easy affection between the two but with the small lump of envy and pang of loneliness it brought about inside herself.  
  
Ariel, once her apprentice, now the bride of Sea Hawk, grinned cheekily at her. She slid down from the embrace of her love to stand beside her former mistress, gazing at the dark coastline dotted with dark pines and white sands.  
  
"Ya know if we were to sail a few more miles and round that bit of land over there we could follow the Malinger river to the Inner Sea." Ariel's voice was tinged with yearning and enthusiasm. "You should see it Casta, its beautiful, canyons rise up, stark and barren and pocked with caves and streaks of colorful earth- you may see it anyway, the Freedom fighters hide there, if they accept you into their ranks you'll definitely be making them your new home." Ariel's voice was filled with suppressed excitement.  
  
Casta glanced down at her former protégé. Ariel had been stuck on this ship longer than her and Castaspella could tell by the look in her eyes she was itching to feel solid land beneath her feet again. She turned from the girls youthful exuberance, shielding her eyes against the sun, a warm breeze lightly blowing her hair over her shoulders, errant tendrils brushing over her face. Her people were massing on the deck, eager to make landfall as well. The Sea Hawk and his men were readying the life boats for release.  
  
"Casta," the Sea Hawk called out, "get your people ready." She turned brusquely, walking to the head of the crowd.  
  
"Alright people this is it. We've made it, be sure you leave nothing behind then maintain order and obey the sailors as they load you into the life boats." A tall and pale man with cerulean hair and a fan of peacock feathers spread behind him came over to her. His loin cloth barely concealing what God gave him, he was well muscled, not an ounce of fat but slender almost dainty, his eyes held a faraway look in them.  
  
"What is it Jornin?" She questioned.  
  
"We are being watched," a long finger pointed at the tree-line on the beach, "there are around fifty men and women, all armed, waiting and watching us." Castaspella nodded.  
  
"It's all right, those are freedom fighters, Sea Hawk said they'd be waiting for us."  
  
She watched as her people were loaded into the longboats. Most of them were rebels from Drile, three or four of them had come from Devlin and some were her own people from the royal guard at Mystacor. She missed her friends Angella and Adora and Netossa and even Madame Raz. But they were all the way on the other side of Etheria and Adora was on the opposite side of the war. Castaspella shivered. She was really all alone in this.  
  
Her people loaded, Castaspella and Ariel climbed down into Sea Hawk's boat and he rowed them ashore. As they neared the beach Castaspella concentrated on home…  
  
Her consciousness seemed to move over the planet like an eel through water. She saw her city and her people moving with an air of grim purpose and heightened expectation. She moved through the halls of knowledge to a pedastal where sat the Book of Secrets wherein she commanded Netossa to keep a written and detailed account of what was happening. As her spiritual eyes perused the crisp pages she seemed to lose her sense of reality, she lost realization of the fact she was not actually in Mystacor, she forgot the boat and sea and Shaddamite.  
  
It seemed Netossa was mobilizing the troops, Onyx had moved her forces against Thaymoore. The village was razed to the ground and the dirt salted in vengeance for what the Horde was terming their "betrayal". When Onyx and her troops marched into Thaymoor they found it deserted; bereft of people, livestock, stores of grain, and the well, tainted. Her forces were moving on Glendale, the last free city outside of Brightmoons borders. Angella had her people moving as well, freeing the tormented, staked to the roads like carrion fodder, Glimmers's cell was attacking the Horde from the woods and Spikeheart, making nightly raids on Onyx's army, and sporadic forays into the fright zone. Bow was leading his contingent in a raid on Scorpion hill where a squadron of Horde fliers were kept in an underground hanger. The place was not heavily guarded and the fliers would bring a much needed technological boost to the rebellion….  
  
With a jolt, Castaspella was wrenched from her thoughts as the boat landed jarringly on the shore. Blinking owlishly and looking to the beach she beheld a strikingly beautiful man glaring down on her with disdain. Her jaw dropped as her eyes feasted on his beauty. He was a Cimmerian, like Netossa, but a shade lighter- well over six feet, he had dark ebony eyes, deep and pure, lit with a fire of raging intensity, his skin, a rich creamy brown, those arms were bulging with biceps and triceps, as thick around as her waist, covered in some kind of metallic, gleaming, gauntlets and gloves stretching from the tops of his broad shoulders to the tips of his long, slender fingers; his neck was strong and thick like a young tree. And praise the gods, his legs and thighs were ribbons of elegant muscle.  
  
Goddess! Here indeed was a man!  
  
His chest, broad and highly defined, rippling with hard pectoral and torso muscles; dark chalcedony hair, long and shimmering, hung in black braids down his back, to his shoulder blades.  
  
His hands were huge. Garbed in a rich blue and gold breastplate made of Cordamite and Lapis with a midnight blue cape, he oozed masculine strength and power and when he moved the cape shone, due to gold silk sewn throughout, in shimmering streaks of brilliance, glimmering in the sun. His leggings were a matching azure hue. A large gold medallion hung from the center of his chest where she knew his heart beat strong and sure proclaiming his allegiance. On the medallion a large hammer was crushing a bat into an anvil. With a great deal of effort the Enchantress of Mystacor managed to stop gawking long enough to stand and step out of the boat.  
  
"Castaspella," Sea Hawk said, gesturing to the large god-of-a-man on the shore, "meet Anvil Just, leader of Shaddamite's freedom fighters."  
  
"A pleasure, sir Just." She breathed. He snorted.  
  
"Hawk," he grunted, never taking his eyes off Castaspella, "how is this runt of a woman going to help me and my people?"  
  
Casta, felt her cheeks heat in fiery indignation. Refusing to address her was a clear sign of disrespect, it didn't help matters either that the deep timbre of his voice sent waves of hot and cold chills running up and down her spine to settle in a languid pool of heat in her belly. Straightening her back, her chin tilting up a notch, she locked her sienna eyes on his obsidian orbs, her very bearing demanding his attention. He obliged, looking her up and down and not in a manner befitting a comrade in arms; more like a man who looks at a woman and decides he likes what he sees. While flattered Castaspella knew she had to show him right now she was no bit of fluff.  
  
Stepping towards him, she rested her palm over his heart. Concentrating she let her power flow from her palm into his chest, her gold cape billowing in the warm sea breeze, she felt his body stiffen; not in pain, rather he was simply feeling the currents of power surrounding her, flowing from the earth and sky and into her body out of her palm and into his. He now knew without a doubt he was in the presence of a powerful woman. She drew back her hand.  
  
"I am Castaspella, Queen of Mystacor, child of light and champion of Freedom. I serve the first ones, I serve the people. I have come to do you aid and help free the people's of Shaddamite." He looked at her from hooded midnight depths, his armor plated hand rubbing his chest where she touched him.  
  
"No shit."  
  
Ariel giggled, "Hey Anvil, what's up, any new adventure's lately?" Turning his dark regard to the bubbly girl his face instantly transformed. Castaspella felt her heart thump quickly as he smiled down at Sea Hawk's woman, ruffling her hair with his hand, his eyes were soft, dark velvet.  
  
"Just the usual ass kicking I do, nothing particularly new and exciting Red." Castaspella found herself wishing he'd look at her like that. But he didn't. As a matter of fact he did not look at her again the next couple hours. He talked with the Sea Hawk, it seemed the two had known each other for a long time. Anvil's people came out of the trees at a signal from him and began helping her people organize as well as unload supplies the Hawk had brought them.  
  
Castaspella found herself a little lost, feeling slightly alone and left out. There was really nothing for her to do. Sighing she decided to take advantage of the lull and finish checking on her home. She sat in the sand, crossing her legs and focused her power and desire on a single thought. Mystacor. With a jolt she was there…  
  
Watching as the gates of her fair city were opened and people, homeless, helpless and lost, confused, angry, afraid and dispossessed, milled there way into Mystaco;, these were the refugees' from Thaymoore, Strathmoore and Glendale. The old and young alike, all had that dazed, empty expression in their eyes, as if wishing for home, unaware it was now gone forever. How her heart ached at seeing such pain in her city, in the faces of her people, she yearned to be there for them, to bring them comfort, at the same time a larger part of her delighted in the prospect of the unknown adventure awaiting her in a strange land…  
  
"Hey, you! Spell woman!" With a hard yank, Castaspella felt herself jerked to her feet, her eyes cleared, an unidentified wetness on her cheeks; focusing on the unhappy, cranky visage of her new ally she tried clearing her mind, finding it harder than it should have been.  
  
Where was she? Her people needed her but she was not in Mystacor, she was in Shaddamite.  
  
"Damn, woman, you're not going to be any help to me if you keep falling asleep in the sand like that. Next time I'll just leave your skinny runt self behind!" She flushed a bright red, he had her pulled atop him in a very intimate way, in jerking her up she simply fell limply against his chest and now she lay there gazing into his eyes and- He thought she was skinny! With a gasp she pulled away from him.  
  
"How dare you!" She hissed, "I was not asleep I was checking on my home!" He grunted, casually dismissing her ire, "yeah lady, we all dream of home, but around here, it's not safe to fall asleep wherever you want. Let's go." He started walking. As he did so the wind blew aside his cape and for an instant she got a tantalizing glimpse of his glutes, flexing as he walked. She grew warm, before shaking herself and starting after him.  
  
"I was not sleeping-"  
  
"Sure lady, sure." He interrupted, not stopping.  
  
"I wasn't," she persisted, matching him stride for stride. She watched him look at her out of the corner of his eyes and took heart. "I told you I am the queen of Mystacor, I have cast a linking spell to my land so that I can see and know what is going on there." He stopped, bringing her up short. She stopped as well. He turned to face her. She stepped back at the anger evident in his face.  
  
"Look lady, I could care less about who you are and where you come from, you're a runt; yeah you have a power about you, but I don't intend to like you, I don't intend to get to know you, I've seen too many little girls like you join us and die to even have the desire to know you. Your too pretty for a war and you never should have come out here. Titles don't impress me, tricks, don't impress me, if you wanna impress me then you show me how useful you can be against the Horde. Until then don't expect too much, your bound to be disappointed." With that little spiel he turned and stormed off.  
  
She found herself slightly taken aback by the rudeness of the man. Jornin and Eliliana, the pair of peacock people accompanying her to Shaddamite moved to flank her along with the three guards from Mystacor.  
  
"Majesty," one of her guards offered, "do not be offended, I have spoken to his people, this man is said to be a fair leader, he lives up to his name." Castaspella nodded.  
  
"Anvil Just." She mused aloud, then she turned her regard to her soldiers, "I am not offended, the man has given me a glimpse into his soul. He feels responsible for his people. I understand that. I feel the same way. He does not want to lose any of them defending us until we can prove our worth." She shrugged lightly, "well, we shall just have to do that." She walked onward putting a bright face on things. All the while smarting inside at being referred to as a runt. She may be a runt in his eyes but he was a pig in hers! A beautiful and breathtaking pig. She smiled inwardly at the thought before hurrying to catch up, her small entourage following. It wasn't until much later she recalled he said she was pretty. 


	2. Shaddamite Leader

Chapter 2; Shaddamite Leader  
  
  
  
Camp was made beneath the pines that night. They were a weary lot; weary but efficient. Things were set up in less then ten minutes and a perimeter quickly established. Castaspella supervised her people, lending them council as needed. They were getting along with their hosts, no unspoken tensions, no hostilities, there was in fact a sense of camaraderie beginning to develop; however, she noticed as many of the fighters began taking up positions as guards, none of her people were put on duty. Her dark brows drew together and a frown marred her face. Castaspella walked purposefully through camp seeking the Shaddamite leader.  
  
She found him in conference with three other warriors; a woman, all lean, hard muscle and sinew in a red leather body suit clinging lover-like to her torso, chest and legs; chain mail gauntlets and gloves on her arms and a short skirt of chain mail over scarlet thighs. She wore calf length crimson boots and her long ebony hair hung in a dark braid down her back. Her face was catlike, with a narrow chin and almond shaped eyes of piercing chalcedony, a pert, dainty nose and a wide mouth with an upper lip slightly fuller than the lower one. Two swords were sheathed at her back, idly Casta wondered if she knew how to use them.  
  
The other two warriors were men; dressed in brown wood garb, one a tall muscled blond, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, light and wavy with full lips tilting sensually at the corners- the other could have been a mirror image except his was a harsher colder visage. The four stopped talking as she approached.  
  
"Sir Just, might I have a moment of your time." Her voice was calm, her expression serene, giving him no hint as to the hot flood of sensations she was feeling looking at him, as his penetrating eyes drilled mercilessly into her own.  
  
"Sure thing, runt." He grunted, walking past her. Gritting her teeth, she followed his hard, wide backside deeper into the woods. At least the view was pleasant. Even if the company was not.  
  
Needles softly crunched beneath their feet, a night bird cawed raucously as they neared the end of the radius of light given off by the campfires. He leaned back against a tree, his face shadowed, eyes gleaming as they watched her. Her hesitant voice filled the silence between them.  
  
"I noticed none of my people were put on guard. I was wondering as to the reason why?" His eyes seemed to devour her in the night, famished, yet unreadable. Or did she merely hope they were? His silence was discomfiting. She found herself blushing beneath his unblinking scrutiny; her slender hand rising to touch her throat in a purely feminine gesture of self consciousness. She cleared her throat softly.  
  
"If you hesitate merely because you feel you lack authority over them rest assured I am happy to act as your equal in this matter." He maintained silence as her words faded into the night. Casta shifted, awaiting a response.  
  
Still he said nothing, merely watched her with hungry orbs, gleaming in the evening light. Her lips curved down, temper igniting, she really was trying to establish a rapport with the man and he just stood there dumb as stone looking pretty! Eyes flashing in frustration, she spoke again, her tone mirroring her displeasure, slowly, as if addressing an imbecile and sharp enough to convey her irritation.  
  
"Why aren't- any of- my people- on guard?" He cracked a small full lipped smile as he watched her struggle to maintain composure. Finally, he deigned to answer her.  
  
"It's simple runt. I don't know you. I don't know your people. I do know my people and I know they won't be caught sleeping on the job while protecting my life and the lives of their comrades. I won't trust your people with my life or my friends lives until they prove their abilities, their usefulness and their loyalties." Then he smirked, "now, as for that bit about me not being afraid to take command of your men, honey, you should know, there is only one leader of this camp, it isn't you." Castaspella was floored. This blatant lack of courtesy and common respect was too much. It had to end now or hope would be lost as they would be a camp divided. Heartsick, she knew she would have to demonstrate her power to him now in order to at least achieve a modicum of respect.  
  
Her eyes already liquid pools of mahogany from her angry frustration, darkened still further with pain as she realized her action might forever lose her his affection; but she had little choice: Her people would not follow a man who treated her with disregard, she could not afford to split them up when they knew nothing about the land they were in, they would be lost without him and his people. Bad enough the seasons were in reverse here, summers heat was full upon them in Shaddamite even though she and her people had just left the first chill winds of winter behind in Mystacor.  
  
As Anvil moved to brush past, her arm shot out, lightning quick, the backside of it touching his chest. He froze, unable to move because of the powerful magiks which bound him. Using a small trick she had perfected during her years as an apprentice she made herself appear to loom over him; powerful, tall, noble. A golden light seemed to appear all around her and her voice strong and pure with righteous anger burst through his mind like a foamy white cap bursting upon an unsuspecting shore. Warm, confident, indignant; he thought her powerful before but now he knew, here was a woman to beware of; the currents around her electrified him, her and the land surrounding them.  
  
"Anvil Just, I am not your enemy. Neither am I your underling. I am, at the least, your equal. I have fought for the freedom of my land and maintained it while yours fell to the Horde. I have powers beyond your ken. I will not be brushed aside or taken lightly. If you are threatened by me and my abilities perhaps a new leader should be chosen. One who's mind is bent on serving the greater good- his people and less on preserving his own precious ego. You will accord me the respect I have earned and the courtesy any person deserves. In the name of the first ones, those who have entrusted me to see their will carried out, I command you- cease hostilities with me!" Her eyes bore down into his, her heart wilting as she saw the angry sparkle in those dark obsidian globes. "I am not your enemy Sir Just." She whispered softly, "Do not underestimate my powers. Do not overestimate your abilities. We are each only as important as the cause we serve, if we fall another will rise up, taking our place and, if necessary, another after that, and another; let it not be said that Castaspella and Anvil Just could not discover a common harmony." She released him from her power and he fell back.  
  
He stood, glaring at her. She stayed where she was, serene and unflappable in the face of his hot rage. He raised a golden finger to her face, his breath coming hard and hot, bathing her face in its moist heat.  
  
"I don't doubt your abilities sorceress, but don't you ever use your powers on me again. If you do, one of us will die. I am a human being. Not some lab rat to be toyed with and manipulated by others! You may not be my enemy, but you damn sure aren't my friend! And you never will be." He hissed through clenched teeth. Angrily he stormed back to camp. He did not see the queen of Mystacor choke back her heartache and bitter disappointment, struggling against the tears which fought to fall a quiet font of sorrow and disappointment. Her duty would have to comfort her, as it always had. Sitting in the cold evening air of the pine forest she wondered what else could go wrong on what was supposed to be the grand adventure of her lifetime.  
  
  
  
Anvil was more than a little pissed. That woman had no right using her powers on him. None at all. His mood was black, his mind a haze of anger and unreasoning hate. Memories boiled up in the cauldron of rage that was his mind; unwanted memories, bringing back feelings he was helpless against, fear, impotent rage, madness. Struggling for control he decided avoiding people totally would be a good idea for him right now. He veered south, scouting beyond the perimeter of the safety net camp established. Try as he might he could not bring to heel his mental demons, they exploded across his mind, livid visions serving only to stoke his rage.  
  
At twenty-four the Horde raided his village. Brunston fell to their forces with hardly a whimper, he was captured and taken to a Horde facility. They had him altered. When he awoke he was missing his arms; both of them. He was helpless as they replaced them with prosthetic robotic limbs made of a cordamite, euridium alloy. They tried brainwashing him, to convince him he was a Horde soldier but he only pretended to go along with them; one thing keeping him sane for the four years while they tortured his body and spirit; the idea of revenge. Right before he was captured he watched, helpless, as his parents- both freedom fighters- were slashed to ribbons by Razita, the Horde force captain in Shaddamite. The image and accompanying emotional agony helped him focus on who he really was and what he wanted when the treatment made him forget such things. He did not however escape without soul deep scars, ribbons of madness pulsing through his blood.  
  
Eventually came the day they released him. They were confident in their science, disdaining to use magic for mindcontrol, citing an incident with a force captain that failed before. They discovered soon after their science failed them as well. Once free of the restraints holding him, his powerful horde altered body, rippling with strength and his invincible arms laid waste to the scientists and their labs. He remembered crushing their skulls in his hands, unable to feel the texture of the jellied mass coating his metal palms, he destroyed their massive computers with one sweep of his powerful arms. He was ten times the warrior he had been, but at what cost?  
  
He discovered he had no sensation in his arms and hands, he would never know the gentle touch of a woman, for what woman would consent to have a man who was only half human and could not even touch them with gentle passion? He became a man consumed with destroying the Horde. Revenge was his passion, he ate vengeance six times a day and dreamt about it in the night, revenge was the drive that sustained him and kept him strong when thoughts of a lifetime with no one at his side threatened to cloud his mind with despair.  
  
He organized and revitalized the flagging resistance movement. Men and women flocked to his side, ready to fight with the man with golden arms. Two massive war-hammers became his weapons and anything standing against him fell beneath those iron heads. He vowed to never be made a helpless prisoner again. He would rather die. When that Sorceress used her power on him he was utterly helpless. All the emotional and psychological garbage that went with the feeling threatened to vomit forth into his consciousness and it was only with the greatest of effort that he was able to slam the lid on it and maintain his rage.  
  
He hated the feeling.  
  
He hated her for eliciting it.  
  
Yet now, looking back in review, he grudgingly realized he may not have left her much choice. Not with her wild temper anyway.  
  
He wasn't blind. He was a leader; he noticed the looks her people were passing as he continued ignoring her. He was inexperienced in sharing command, maybe he was a bit disconcerted with her presence, he felt as if this was his camp, his cause, his people, he had built the resistence from nothing, yet now he was expected to share what was his with this wisp of a woman- she lacked the look of a warrior. She was nothing like Chandra, the sloe eyed, ebony haired Shan tui' Sar sword maiden. And the feelings she engendered when he looked at her were unacceptable. Yet they bombarded his consciousness none the less.  
  
She was a goddess given form. Her limbs were strong and lithe and still utterly feminine, she wore the mantle of power with ageless grace and her eyes were liquid jewels, burning his soul with the heat of her spirit and the passion he glimpsed therein.  
  
Oh yes, he noticed the desire in her eyes as she gazed on him. That made her all the more dangerous. As beautiful as she was he could not afford any personal involvement. It would never work and he could ill afford to lose the forces she brought simply because her feelings got hurt. He had his people to think about. Morale was flagging, recently. The fighting never seemed to stop.  
  
They were always moving, fighting for their lives. Friends died all around them everyday- died or were taken prisoner and subjected to Moduloks hideous experimentation. Modulok was the horde scientist and ruler controlling the capitol city of Dramada and the land of Shaddamite. His laws were hard and strictly enforced by Force Captain Razita and her minions. Any citizen caught in the city without their papers were executed on sight. Anvil knew this because many of his men were dead for this very reason. All citizens were forced to carry identification papers on them in Shaddamite and official stamps changed frequently, making obtaining fraudulent papers practically impossible. His people would be boosted when they saw the warriors the SeaHawk had brought them. His visage blackened, that is if they were warriors. If they were not they would be ejected from his presence. His camp had no place for beggars.  
  
He decided he would give them a chance to prove their worth tomorrow when they raided the Horde Outpost of Valrein. If the woman proved a valuable ally then he would adjust his treatment of her. If not. He'd leave her here.  
  
And he meant what he said. If she ever used her power on him again, one of them would die. He would not be helpless again. 


	3. Brightmoon Paling

Chapter 3; Brightmoon paling  
  
An angry genesis of daylight arrived; a sky besmirched in the colors of summer, shades of pestilence, yellow and green painted the horizon in disease ridden hues before yielding the heavens up to a brilliant but no less wretched blue.  
  
Dawn, the favorite time of day for the rebels. Each offering the promise of rebirth and new hope. This dawn was different however, for hope was conspicuously absent  
  
A muggy, moisture hung in the air, stale moldy droplets of misery and the stench was gagging. Angella surveyed her city Brightmoon outside the castle walls, her eyes heavy with unbridled worry and sorrow. More refugees crowded into the jewel of the northern continent each day, fleeing their homes in the countryside, fearful of Onyx's rage. The refuse this many people encumbered coupled with the fact that many of them were uneducated and refused to wash made her fair home reek of human waste. She had her soldiers out Ordering mass communal baths and conscripting refugees into cleaning the streets but her people simply could not keep up with the strain the refugees were putting on the city. Food was in short supply as was patience.  
  
A hollow knock echoed resoundingly through her throne room and she stood, raising her chin with a defiant energy she did not feel. It would not do to have any one of her people see the depths of her dejection.  
  
"You may enter." She called majestically, hands fisting at her sides, resting lightly on her slender hips. The large ornately scrollworked doors were pulled outward by her guards and General Gawain entered, his blue helmet under his arm, keeping his eyes to the ground, he knelt at the feet of his queen.  
  
"Majesty, our scouts have returned. It is as you feared." Angella tried keeping her face impassive, even as her heart sank and the last shreds of hope fled. Gently, she clasped his shoulder in a firm grip meant to offer courage.  
  
"Rise, General, and report." Gawain stood, raising amber eyes to the queen he served, they shone with anger and sorrow.  
  
"Legis and Riley are wounded, but they report Glendale has fallen. The entire command wiped out to a man." Angella gasped in spite of herself. There had been a full contingent of Brightmoonian soldiers to reinforce the militia at Glendale. General Gawain looked away, discomfort in his stance at his queens distress. Nevertheless he continued. "Many of the survivors were staked out on the roads between Brightmoon and the cities; Strathmoore, Thaymoore and Glendale, but your daughter Glimmer hounds Onyx's troops, nipping at their heels, costing them time and manpower. Her forces release as many captives as Onyx leaves behind on the roads." The pride the General felt for his princess was evident in his voice. Angella smiled through her tears.  
  
She wondered briefly how her daughter was doing, it had been a full cycle of the moon since their last meeting, much had changed.  
  
"Tell me of the refugees." She commanded, her voice husky. Turning from her general, walking to the window she gazed on her city as he spoke, not wishing him to witness her moment of weakness as yearning for her daughter ripped through her, tearing at her defenses, leaving her emotionally ragged. Gawain's deep voice droned on, reverberating through the chambers.  
  
"Tempers are frayed, majesty, people worry. With all the refugees piling in, the water is turning bad. Food is in short supply. People leaving the city are captured by Horde forces outside the city walls. Brightmoon is under siege my lady." His voice cracked at this last part, as if he himself could not believe the dire straits to which his city had fallen.  
  
She sighed. She could not afford to share her pain. This man needed assurances. Turning a piercing gaze on him, all her uncertainty and concern hidden, she stepped forward, projecting an air of confidence she did not wholly feel.  
  
"Worry not Captain aid is coming. I have received word from Netossa that the Unicorn King is sending two of his people to purify our waters. As you know, Unicorns have magical powers that we humans do not fully understand but one of them is the ability to purify water. As for the food, Madame Razz is looking into that very matter herself and I assure you the shortage will not last long. And the refugees-" Angella sighed softly, "Brightmoon has long been a bastion of hope for those who wish to be free, we can not turn our own people away." Gawain still seemed troubled.  
  
"This is indeed reassuring tidings majesty, yet the water is so fouled now my troops have been hard pressed to keep the people from rioting. Is there nothing that can be done now?" Angella closed her eyes, raising her fingers to massage her temples.  
  
"I believe I can purify the waters of the Singing River. Strengthen the forces on the southern wall. The majority of my powers have been focused on strengthening our defenses against the Attacks of the horde there. They have catapults, General and flaming pitch. When I clean the river my powers will lose cohesion on the wall. You must keep the horde from punching through our defenses. I will be unable to help you while I am concentrating my power else where."  
  
The man looked relieved. "It will be as you say my Queen."  
  
"Very well. Inform the people of my decision." General Gawain bowed low, his hand thumping his heart as he did so before whirling smartly on his heel and leaving to carry out her orders. His footfalls echoed loudly in Angella's ears. She was so tired. Yet she was unable to rest. Returning to her spot in the window, allowing her shoulders to fall, Brightmoon's monarch inhaled a deep weary breath. It would be at least an hour yet before she could relieve her powers from the south wall and purify the cities water supply. Gawain's words echoed in her mind.  
  
We are a city under siege… any caught leaving the city are captured…  
  
That included any refugees turned away at the gates.  
  
None were turned away. Her shoulders slumped in sorrowful gloom. If things didn't change soon, Brightmoon would fall. She sat in the window with one knee drawn up in her arms, her wings folding over her body as if to protect it from the pain in her heart, her cheek resting in exhaustion on her leg. Her eyes glistened with futile tears she would not shed. She learned long ago the uselessness of crying; when the horde stole her husband she cried then she was forced to rule alone in his absence. She did not cry again.  
  
When she was captured by the Horde and given to Hunga she did not cry, when Hunga had her tortured and beaten, she did not cry, when the foul creature taunted her with the fate of her people, her city, her castle in the hands of the Horde, she did not cry. When Adora returned to the Horde as Onyx she did not cry. This time it would be no different. The sorrow was there, inside of her, and there it would remain.  
  
She hoped Glimmer was alright. She closed her eyes seeking strength for the task to come. 


	4. Peoples Plight Tragedy of Madame's Past

Chapter 4 Peoples Plight  
  
  
  
They were half starved when she found them. Her eyes took in the miserable trio huddled beneath the fuchsia trunk of a tree with weary resignation. The small forms were caked in a thick layer of travel dust and grime. Three sets of lips left hanging open in the noon-sun, chapped and peeling from dehydration. Six small feet, blistered and bloodied from what appeared to be days of desperate travel, twitched in exhausted spasms- as if to escape the flies buzzing around them and the small chunks of flesh hanging from them. The smallest one, she couldn't be more than six, whimpered in private terror, sucking her thumb even as she cried in her sleep. The eldest whom Glimmer estimated to be thirteen or fourteen clutched the child closer in the crook of his arm. Even in sleep trying to protect the child in his charge. The third was a boy of around eight, curled into a tight, little ball, his arms wound tightly around the oldest boy.  
  
Leaning forward, Glimmer gently shook the eldest child awake. Blue eyes shot wide in terrified confusion, the boy's entire body tightened like a spring and he began trembling.  
  
"Hey, easy. You're going to be alright. I'm here to help." Glimmer smiled with gentle reassurance. The boy's trembling did not cease as he gazed with quiet dread at the woman above him. She reached for the water- skin at her waist. The liquid was warm and stale but it was all she had to give until she could get the children to the whispering woods. She held it out to the lad, who gently shook the younger ones awake. Never taking his guarded gaze from Glimmer he stood, biting his lip to keep from crying in pain, his face twisting in suppressed agony. He pulled the younger boy to his feet. The child gripped his leg for support, burying his face in the eldest' pants and sniffling softly, attempting to hide the fact he was crying. The little girl, however made no effort to hide her tears or pain. She began wailing. Great gulping, rasping sobs emitted from her tiny throat, Glimmers heart twisted with compassion. She watched in amazement as, oblivious to his own pain the adolescent scooped the little girl up into the crook of his arm, holding her, sparing her the agony of standing. She continued to cry, though her tears were somewhat muffled into the boy's shoulder.  
  
Glimmer offered him the waterskin again. He eyed it warily, his stiff posture betraying his distrust.  
  
"Go ahead, take it. It's okay. See." Glimmer took a swallow, proving it was safe and smiled, offering him the water a third time.  
  
Snatching it from her hands, he quick flash of gratitude and relief in his eyes was her only thanks. He offered it first to the little girl at his shoulder. She swallowed greedily, crying in loud protest as he pulled it away lest she get sick. The boy at his side was already reaching for it, he took a couple swallows before handing it back to the oldest.  
  
"Can you tell me where your parents are?" Glimmer asked gently. She regretted the question almost immediately as the words achieved what his obvious pain had not. His eyes grew large and bright as if he fought the tears. He took deep gulping breaths and his mouth moved but no sound was forthcoming. Finally he shook his head in denial. Glimmer surmised they were of the many refugees on their way to the whispering woods or Brightmoon Her cell had been finding them in similar shape for the past six weeks. She was rechecking the road to Grenvale for survivors left staked to the road when she found these three.  
  
"Well, its obvious you can't walk in your condition," she muttered ruefully, "so I'll just have to improvise." Knowing she would pay for it afterward Glimmer put her hands to her temples and summoned the energy within her. A lavender orb of light appeared to encompass the children and her, lifting them from the ground and flying them swiftly over the once green and carnation earth, now stained red and black from turned sod and clay trampled in an ugly disarray, due to the hundreds of hooves and wheels and feet of a large army recently marched through. Her concentration was fierce and her power great but even the princess of Brightmoon had limits; she found her focus failing as fatigue washed over her body in a numb rush. The orb flickered briefly and they plummeted perilously close to the ground. Desperately Glimmer struggled to maintain cohesion. The panicked gaze of the blue eyed boy flashed into her mind- she refused to fail him.  
  
Glimmer reached deep. Deep into the recesses of her soul, her powers feeding on hidden reserves even she didn't realize she had. The Orb floated into the whispering woods, right into the main camp to land gently on the ground at Madame Raz's feet where it abruptly dissipated. The three children gazed around them in wonder and fear, but Glimmer had no chance to reassure them as she collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap. The little girl looked at the fallen woman and struggled out of her brothers arms. She crawled on her knees across the ground to touch her soft, pink hair.  
  
"Angel." She whispered in awe. Madame Raz took in the scene before her gazing in dismay at the children's feet.  
  
"Oh dear!" She squawked. The three looked to the peculiar woman, fright, wonder and curiosity warring for dominance on their young faces. Madame smiled. "It's alright dearies, you're among friends now." Her eyes slid away from the children to Glimmers fallen form. "What is going on here?"  
  
"Are we in the Whispering woods then?" The oldest boy questioned, glancing uneasily at Glimmers collapsed form before locking eyes with Madame. She smiled gently.  
  
"Yes dearie, your safe here, no need to worry."  
  
"Can you help my brother and sister. We've been traveling for three days and two nights. I tried not to stop." His quavering voice dropped to a muted whisper, "Momma said don't stop. But we were barefoot. The road, it hurt our feet." He took a deep ragged breath, sticking out his chest in a child like show of courage, "I, of course, could handle it but my little sister and my brother, well, I'm older, it was harder for them. Madame eyed the boy struggling so hard to be a man with empathic pity and concern.  
  
"Of course I can help them dear. You as well." She turned her head, addressing two passing rebels. "Rolland, Gus, please, take the children and this young man here," she gestured to the boy, who visibly straightened at being called a man, "to the infirmary to recover. They've been through an ordeal." The two were gazing at Glimmer's prone form with horrified concern. Madame shooed them along dismissively.  
  
"She'll be fine, I'll have her taken to my tent to recover; all she needs is a bit of rest." The two took the children to the infirmary and Madame knelt at Glimmer's side. Placing a hand on Glimmer's brow, Madame breathed energy from her own life force into Glimmers. The princess moaned, struggling to sit up.  
  
"The children, Madame are they-"  
  
"They're fine sweetie, as are you, now. You took a foolish risk. You above all people know the limits to your power. You could have failed and left yourself and those you sought to protect exposed and vulnerable to the Black Guard." Madame's tone was severe but her eyes shone with concern. Glimmer shrugged tiredly.  
  
"We all take risks Madame. And you are not one to lecture me on exceeding the limits of my power." Madame Raz flushed lightly. She had been drawing on her own stores of energy more than wise lately as the circles beneath her eyes could surely attest.  
  
"We must all do what we can to keep freedom alive." Glimmer said softly.  
  
"Or at least the hope of it." Madame replied, thoughtfully.  
  
"I need to get to Spikeheart. We're reinforcing Brightmoon tomorrow. Netossa is sending a regiment from Mystacor and we will force the Black Guard back! Ahgo can't plan the attack because he doesn't know the terrain as well as I do." Glimmer struggled to stand. Madame smiled gently, lending her arm as support as Brightmoon's princess rose to her feet.  
  
"Good Journey then." Glimmer looked sharply at Madame.  
  
"I'm beginning to wonder if there is any goodness left at all in the universe." She bitterly whispered.  
  
"There's us." Madame offered. Glimmer said nothing, instead, collapsing to her knees, placing her face in her hands she began weeping, angry brittle sobs of frustrated despair and exhaustion.  
  
"It's not enough!" Glimmer cried, "the Horde is too big." Wrapping her arms around Glimmer's crumpled form, Madame rocked her gently back and forth, compassion welling up in her heart; she smoothed her pink hair back over her temple and out of her eyes.  
  
"So, do we just give up then?" Madame asked the young woman softly, a sad smile on her kindly face. Glimmer seemed to take strength from Madame's soft words.  
  
"No." Glimmer gritted through clenched teeth, her slender hands fisting at her sides. "We fight. We fight until we die because some things are worth it and because I would rather die free than live as Hordacks slave."  
  
"Or maybe we fight until we win." Madame answered, even as she said it her voice empty of hope or belief. Glimmer stood, squeezing Madame's hand as she did so.  
  
"Goodbye Madame. I… I don't expect I'll see you again, outnumbered you know, and I'm so tired." Glimmer turned, slowly walking through the trees. Madame watched her leave, worry and fear in her face. Not just for Glimmer but for them all.  
  
  
  
All the rebels remaining in the whispering woods were combined in two groups equaling around a thousand women and children and two hundred men. However the number was growing daily as refugees managed to make their way to the pastel sanctuary. Food was scarce and many went without and it was getting worse. The infirmaries were overcrowding as members of Glimmer's cell rescued more civilians from the three day torture of the roadside stakings made by Adora and the Black Guard, as her honor guard was being referred to.  
  
  
  
Madame smiled absently at people she passed, moving deeper into the woods. Her concern for the people weighing heavy on her mind. The wind was blowing hard. Winter was setting in. Many would be without warmth. Madame stepped into a small clearing. The twiggets and Broom sat in a circle around what appeared to be a ball of dead foliage. She sat in the circle with them.  
  
"Things are gettin' desperate, aren't they Madame?" Broom questioned, somberly. Madame Raz nodded.  
  
"They're beyond desperate. They're dire." The twiggets gazed in supplication at their leader. Years ago Madame cast a spell on the Whispering woods, granting it sentience and the Twiggets were a byproduct of that sentience; they loved her. They knew the only reason they existed were due to her selfless act of love and devotion in granting the woods a part of her life force. They looked to her for guidance, for a solution to end the suffering they saw all around them. With She-Ra gone, she was their last hope. Madame knew of one solution that would end the hunger and their food worries but she was unwilling to consider such a final solution.  
  
Yet.  
  
Glimmer's words rang in her ears. We fight until we die because some things are worth it.  
  
"The wind is blowing cold tonight."  
  
"Its winter." Broom answered sarcastically. Madame's eyes flashed.  
  
"Well, I for one am going to do something about it. There are children in these woods. They could become ill."  
  
"Won't do 'em any good to be healthy if their isn't any food. The streams are fished out. The berries and fruits are gone and most of the edible roots as well."  
  
"I'll handle that too." Broom eyed Madame in concern. He was well aware- even if the twiggets were not- of the cost to Madame, if she did indeed take care of it all. She placed her hands above the ball of brown lifeless leaves and a white glow flew from her hands to the brush. The twiggets bowed their green capped heads and Broom joined them, each adding their own mental focus to Madame as she released her life force, muttering the ancient words of the Shiaatsa, a tongue unheard in the world for a thousand years.  
  
"Razzle dazzle melthendusola uri ann katel!" With a sharp jolt Madame felt her spirit jostle from the small confines of her short, squat body and spread over and throughout the forest. She merged with the soil. Sensing the small primitive minds of worms and bugs beneath the dirt. Moles and rabbits shifting in their warrens, the roots of each mighty tree quivered in anticipation of her spiritual touch.  
  
Then, it happened.  
  
She merged with the forest, became each tree. It was ecstasy unbound. The pleasure coursed through and around her spirit-self in waves of life as the forests heart pulsed and throbbed around her. Distantly, she heard a voice chanting a strangely familiar litany of words and she dimly recognized it as her own, before her attention shifted once more to the trees.  
  
"…melthendusola uri ann katel, melthendusola uri ann katel, melthendusola uri ann katel…" With extreme difficulty she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She sped up the reproductive processes of each plant and tree, replenishing the forests supply of fruit and nuts and vegetables. She then increased the respiratory rate of the forest, causing a greenhouse effect, the stems of flowers and leaves of bushes and trees grew damp with dew, the chill breeze lost its bite, becoming warm, caressing, the heated breath of a god, gently wafting over his people.  
  
The twiggets and broom quickly felt the effects of Madame's spell as the air heated around them. Suddenly the chanting stopped. Broom looked up from his concentration to see Madame gazing blankly at the dead brush in front of her. The twiggets stood, quietly shuffling off to lend comfort to the people staying in the forest. Broom stayed with Madame, unwilling to leave her side.  
  
Tenderly he moved toward her, gently shaking her. Her eyes fell shut and her body went limp as she passed into the realm of unconsciousness. Despair filled his heart. With a cry of rage he savagely struck the unmoving ball of brush. It crumbled beneath his feral onslaught. Just as quick as it came his rage extinguished. He sat beside the woman he loved, cradling her tenderly in his spindly arms, unable to do more for her than be there when she awoke.  
  
It was not always so however. With nothing more to do than hold her, Broom let his mind drift into another time. Another life…  
  
Broom was the only one to remember who Madame used to be. Even Madame sometimes forgot who she once was. Long ago, she had been the beautiful and powerful enchantress, Ayella Adami.  
  
One thousand years ago, Madame, then daughter to one of the ruling families of Etheria, dedicated her life to the protection and preservation of her people and their freedoms. She was also a priestess of the even then ancient Shiaatsa order. An order of men and women who drew on the magics of the life force all around and within them.  
  
She was elite then. She could have been head of her order had she so chosen. However, instead of choosing the power and comfort the life of high priestess would bring, she chose to place her people first. With her gifts she was able to foresee the day when Etheria would need a birthplace of hope and freedom, free from the taint and touch of the evil which would engulf the world. She did what she could to see ensure such a place would exist.  
  
Hers was a bold and ambitious plan. One any lesser magician or sorceress with an ounce of sense or fear would never have attempted. Ayella, however, never had possessed much of either. Head strong and determined, secure in her knowledge of her talent and art she embraced the future as hers to protect. The one thing she loved above even her magic; her duty to her people and her home.  
  
Using ancient magiks of her order, casting spells none were able to fully comprehend and drawing on all life within a large forest and the life within herself, she linked her consciousness to the woods, granting the forest sentience and the ability to discern good and evil within the human heart. However something went wrong in her casting.  
  
She realized afterward she inadvertently transmuted the spirit of the forest when she granted it sentience and in so doing merged transmutation magiks with Shiaatsa life force magiks. Two completely different types of power, one of which she knew nothing about.  
  
And the spell was somehow incomplete.  
  
Suffering from bouts of confusion and disorientation, she would lapse into states of unconsciousness that would, at times, last days. With nowhere left to go she turned to her childhood friend Lysander Steel. He was a sorcerer, specializing in transmutation.  
  
Broom well remembered the day she came to him. His heart stopping- in awe of her delicate, fragile beauty. Her skin ivory white with a hint of lavender- alluding to the blood flowing beneath the flawless cloak of perfection. Her long hair of purest platinum flowing free and wild, a silky waterfall over her gown of dark purple and silver. A blush of anxiety dusting her high cheek bones as she told him her tale and what she had done. At first Broom was furious she would take such risk with her life, for she had indeed been playing with powerful magiks of the most primitive level.  
  
But he agreed to help her. How could he not, for he was moved by both her beauty and her desperate courage. He admired her spirit and determination as much as her commitment to her cause. And he always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.  
  
Tirelessly they worked, trying to find what went wrong in the spell. There were times when she would collapse, unconscious, another lapse in energies due to the constant drain of spirit caused by the spell and he would work alone, deep into the night. His concern for her well being ignited a fire within him that would not be extinguished. Piece by piece they unraveled the spell until discovering the flaw.  
  
Each spell, each piece of magic requires balance. Ayella achieved balance with the Shiaatsa life force energies. Her life force balancing the life force of the forest.  
  
The spell was like a line on a page. At one end was Ayella's life force, at the other, the forest. In her ignorance Ayella somehow managed to tap into the power to transmute objects, to transform life, because in order to complete her spell and grant the forest a certain level of sentience and discernment, she changed the forest of individual trees into one collective living being. A totally new form of life. So a new line was formed from the original line without an equivalent line in opposition. Leaving the spell unbalanced; similar to a Y shape.  
  
Something would have to be transfigured on Ayella's end of the spell in order to achieve balance. Ideally, it would be the power source of the spell. However, Ayella could not attempt to transfigure herself. That would be folly, even for a master of the art such as himself. Even a normal self transfiguration would be painful but with her entire being focused on the spell linking her to the forest, any attempt on her part would be fatal.  
  
Painfully so.  
  
To be transfigured by another brought no pain but to transfigure oneself was excruciating. This was because for a brief time the spirit would be split, trapped between forms, that of the one casting and the one becoming, the sensations would be akin to bathing in fire.  
  
Lysander also learned if an alternate source of power could be found other than the life force within Ayella, she would never have to worry about the side affects of the spell again. She would be able to live a normal life. This was important to him because he found that he could not imagine his life without her in it. Working beside her each day, smelling her skin, being filled with her spirit, her joyfulness, her empathy and courage; he was unable to resist.  
  
He loved her.  
  
With all his heart, he loved her. Sensing she had feelings for him as well he courted them judiciously.  
  
He told her what he discovered and then shared his plan. If they could transfer the spells anchor from Ayella's life force to the force of his love for her then they could transmute their love, transforming the emotional energies into a blossoming willow tree thus having a sentient forest at one end of the spell and a physical manifestation of their love- the power source- as the opposite anchor, achieving a balance. Ayella agreed.  
  
She had been so young, then; but her power was so great and her courage so strong he blinded himself to her age. That had perhaps been his undoing. Her grasp of her own power, her dedication to her people and her commitment to others had enchanted him. He loved her so much. If, perhaps, he had not been blinded by his love for her and his desire to possess her love as his own, he would have considered, perhaps she was too young to love an old man such as himself. After all, he was ten years her senior.  
  
But love can make fools of even the most cautious and so the night came.  
  
Trusting in the strength and purity of his love for Ayella, not allowing himself to question hers, he summoned the powers at his command. Reaching beyond the fabric of reality and seeking to bend it to his will. He held her fragile hands in his own as she concentrated on her own task, summoning up all the powers of the Shiaatsa, the powers drawn from her own life force and that of the forest.  
  
Light crackled around them both, hers white and brilliant and his blue and bold; they merged and mingled, braiding together, twisting cords of power forming a flaming halo of magical radiance around them. Within the gloriole of power beside them they focused their love on the image of a sapling, the physical expression of their love for each other; it sprouted, elongating, twigs growing, roots stretching hungrily toward the earth. Leaves blossomed, vibrant, green, alive. The bark was a deep, rich brown. Gradually it expanded in size, until it was the length and breadth of a child.  
  
And then, something went wrong.  
  
Green sparks spit and hissed from the two distinctly different magical forces merging and the leaves on the sapling began to whither and die. Quickly Lysander reviewed his calculations; he knew there was nothing wrong with the spell. His love for Ayella was beyond doubt; he would die for her. It looked as if they might both die, there, in the circle their combined power formed. The salvation Ayella so yearned for her people would now be their grave if he did not figure out what was wrong. He shot desperate Ebony eyes toward Ayella whose face was a fierce mask of concentration as she struggled valiantly to maintain the spells cohesion. Understanding washed over him like a warm tide.  
  
She didn't love him.  
  
She thought she did. She said all the right things acted the right way, she was drawn to him certainly. Felt affection toward him, yes. Admired him for his power and his courage.  
  
But that was not love.  
  
Lysander gazed onto the face of the woman he had come to cherish above all life even his own, knowing she was about to die and he did the only thing he could.  
  
He saved her.  
  
With a last gentle squeeze to her hand he released one of them to grasp the dying sapling and transfigured himself. The pain was agonizing. His skin melted from his body as the sapling merged with his spirit. He felt his body shrivel in on itself and reform. He knew if he cried out Ayella would lose concentration, the spell would be incomplete and he would die and she would spend what was left of her life in and out of awareness before joining him in that eternal abyss. He kept his silence.  
  
The pain was brutal in its intensity; slamming violently into every nerve ending in his body, searing his lungs and devouring his breath, he felt his organs grinding and shifting, flames of hungry suffering licked greedily up his limbs, his entire body spasming in such horrific anguish as the magic seemed to feed off his form. Bringing all his years of self discipline to bear he bit back the screams of tormented misery and focused instead on her and the love he felt. For his sacrifice she would live. And in the end, that was all that mattered to him.  
  
Her life.  
  
He yearned for the sweet embrace of death but did not give in. He counted instead each shining strand of silver-white hair on her head. He found himself remembering the reflection of starlight in her amethyst eyes, when she laughed as moonlight caressed the pale smooth skin of her face, glowing ethereally off the gentle curve of her cheek and graceful arch of her neck as they strolled in the gardens on cool wintry evenings. He spent the countless and endless seconds poised between life and death wishing he could hold her to him one last time, this woman he loved. The woman who would die if he failed in this task. He reached out to stroke her silky hair once more with his own hand but it was not to be and he let his new and unhuman hand fall away.  
  
She was unaware of his anguish, his torment as he changed into a broom. A witch's companion- he changed her as well, he had no choice, the spells power was now bound to both her life force and his love. It was twice as strong as before but for balance to be achieved she had to change as well. He couldn't bare to rob her of her humanity however, he made her instead his vision of Ceridwen; mother of the natural world. He felt it fitting since she willingly bound her fate with that of a forest. No longer human he was now the product of his life and his love, combined with the tree form that love had taken. She was lost in her own web of magic and did not feel the new course his took and when his change was complete he felt her power wash over him, a soothing balm of warmth and light, caressing his shivering form, locking him into his new shape for eternity, forming the last line of balance in the spell.  
  
It was done- the spell was now an X in form; Broom and Raz forming two lines at one end as the power source of the spell and at the other end was the forest as it once was and as it had changed according to their need. The forest, in its new sentience enhanced form, they later learned, spawned the twiggets.  
  
Ayella opened her eyes, gazing in confusion at the broom before her.  
  
Broom never told her why the spell failed.  
  
He blamed it on a miscalculation on his part. He left her the next day, hoping she would move on with her life and find love, a real love and not feel bound to him by duty or guilt. He met her again three hundred years later. The spell granting them both the life span of a forest so neither aged much but to his deep dismay he discovered that because the spells power still came from her life force- though she no longer experienced periodic bouts of unconsciousness, she continued having lapses in concentration. He never left her side again.  
  
Lately, with the influx of refugees she began dipping deeper into her well of power than she ever had before and Broom was afraid. Even after a thousand years he still loved her. He was helpless to aid her however for his powers were locked tightly in the spell that kept Madame and him alive and the whispering woods sentient. He feared that one day she would dip too far and too deep into her magical resources and discover they had run dry. Then she would be unable to return to him.  
  
The years had changed her- to be sure. She was short and fat and dumpy with age, the image of Ceridwen he had given her; but when Broom looked at her he saw her with the eyes of love and he saw that she was possessed of the same fire in her soul that burned one thousand years ago. The same passion for her people, the same empathy for their pain and the same selfless love for her planet. When Broom looked at the sleeping witch in his arms he saw the most beautiful woman on Etheria.  
  
He wished She-Ra were here. She could help ease the plight of the refugees from Madame's shoulders. But she wasn't there and Madame was the only hope many of them had. Come morning Glimmer would leave the forest and return to her rebel camp in Spikeheart if she hadn't already done so and Madame would once again be alone and responsible for the fate of the people in the Whispering woods. 


	5. Awakenings within an Evil Heart

Chapter 5 Awakenings in an evil heart  
  
"Master Hordack, squaaawk, the port city of Lyme and their shipyards have been taken, the rebels have been routed. The city of Brightmoon is surrounded on all sides by our forces. Commanding General Onyx, squawk, has left Commander Black and Grizzlor in charge of the siege."  
  
"Excellent." Hordack snorted, laughing in wicked delight. "Adora has done spectacularly, exceeding my fondest expectations. Those two buffoons she left in charge shouldn't be able to screw things up, all they need do is wait for the people of Brightmoon to starve." His throne room was designed to intimidate, to inspire fear and respect in those who served him. He would recline on an evil looking throne, decorated in the bones of various humanoids from other planets conquered by the horde and seem to loom threateningly above those seeking an audience. Right now he loomed over Vultak, one of his more repulsive minions.  
  
Standing slightly over five feet, Vultak was a gray, bald mass of sinews and tendons. Extremely lithe and slim, alluding to his speed and hidden prowess, his eyes gleamed red and massive leathery wings sprouted from his back granting him the ability to fly. He also had another talent, one implanted by Modulok in one of the GMOEN labs. He could transform himself into shadow. This was done by employing an implanted microchip located in his cerebral cortex Vultak could push himself out of phaze with this reality leaving him only a blurred shadow- the perfect spy. He wore a black fur tunic with the red Horde bat emblem emblazoned across his chest, his ears were pointy and he spoke with an annoying squawk. One of the side affects of the DNA splicing of humanoid and carrion bird.  
  
"What of the whispering woods?" Hordack commanded.  
  
"Three patrols ride their boundaries constantly. Squaaaawk- a trench has been dug on the northern side stretching from Grenvale to the beaches."  
  
"And the mines?"  
  
"They have been laid out, ten feet behind the trenches as you ordered."  
  
Hordack snorted gleefully. His face splitting into a happy grin, one made all the more repulsive by the fact such an expression bared his incisors, making him appear the epitome of viciousness. The spy continued  
  
"It seems the rebels have abandoned the woods. It now merely serves as a shelter for the weak refugees fleeing the Black Guard." Hordack, overcome by an emotion that could only be described as joy, stood, stretching his arms high above his head, laughing in unmitigated mirth. He performed a small pirouette and the stunned spy could only stare in ill concealed shock. Hordacks eyes glowed evilly as he descended from his throne two steps at a time.  
  
"Adora has done it! She has driven a wedge between Mystacor and Brightmoon! With less than three months in command she has taken twelve villages and three cities."  
  
"Mighty one, I would humbly suggest that while her victories are indeed impressive, the two major cities have yet to fall." Hordacks smile dropped slightly.  
  
"It matters little, the refugee overload will do for me what my magic and forces could not."  
  
"Sir?" The spy questioned, confusion etched across his hideous features.  
  
"The siege of Brightmoon, you idiot! It may last long but in the end I will have their winged queen in chains at my feet." Bowing low Vultak inched slowly backward, away from his master, fearful of incurring his wrath.  
  
"Where is Adora now?" Hordack demanded imperiously.  
  
"She heads to Blackmoor, my lord, she expected to have taken the kingdoms outlying towns and main city of Thoroon by the time I got here to make my report."  
  
Hordack strolled over to the large window overlooking the fright zone while speaking over his shoulder to his minion. "Blackmoor will then have fallen by the time you return to her. Tell her I don't expect to have my orders countermanded again. Since she will not abide Imp, she will utilize you to keep me informed.  
  
"As you will, milord. Squaawk, Any instructions for the war?"  
  
"Yes. Tell her when she is through with Blackmoor I want her and the Black Guard to ride for Rendwoll. She is to see to its fortifications. The Peacock People will be after it now that they have a new Holy woman. They will wish to see her enthroned within the city in the Ivory Citidel. They must not get that tower! Rendwoll can not fall to the rebellion. Make that extremely clear to her, Vultak."  
  
"Yes Master Hordack." The winged monstrosity groveled, bowing low as he backed out of the room.  
  
Hordack, lost in thought, paid scant heed to his departure. Thrilled by all Adora was accomplishing, he was leaving Brightmoon and Mystacor in her capable hands; he was carrying out his own plans against the Empress of Ice Mountain. The seeds of dissent were sown and war was now inevitable. However, those plans were being delayed as he learned of the new threat emerging from the crumbling rebellion. A new holy woman for the Peacock people troubled him.  
  
It was Peekablu, a woman he took prisoner three years ago. If he had but known what she was becoming he would have killed her right then and there. If her people ever again gained control of their citadel, they could drive the Horde back into the Fright Zone, forcing a stalemate that could last decades; completely loosing the hold the Horde had on this continent.  
  
Even now a force squad, led by Catra, was assisting in reinforcing Rendwoll. His spies had only recently discovered the peacock people's holy woman, the bird people were gathering in Mystacor; he knew they would be after their ancient home, for though the citadel stood silent now, as it had since the occupation began, with their holy woman controlling it, the silence would not remain.  
  
He already had his best assassin seeking the bird woman. He seldom employed the unique skills of Double Trouble or DT as she preferred to be known, she was a favorite of his brother, Horde Prime but he viewed this matter with enough urgency to warrant her intervention and she had been recalled to Etheria from where ever in the galaxy she was now.  
  
Twenty years ago he had the Peacock holy woman killed, driving the native bird people from their home. Now a new goddess was risen and he would beware. Many ancient treasures of the bird folk were even now on Horde World, decorating the manses of his brother, Horde-Prime.  
  
Horde Prime.  
  
His happiness dimmed as the shadow of memory fell over him. He felt his abdominal muscles contract as a frission of suppressed terror and envy washed over his body. Horde Prime was the only force in the galaxy that could cause fear to rise up in Hordack's black heart. Yet, now, his brothers spector was fought back in his minds eye by the image of a woman. A blonde clad in black, a mighty war leader and skilled general and tactician. Hordack paced abruptly to the balcony outside his throne room. His thoughts allowing him no rest as he pondered this latest development.  
  
As far as his cybernetic eyes could see Hordack beheld the crimson lights and dark gray- black hues of fear and death hanging in twilit clouds over the miles of industrial waste that was the fright zone. The Horde fortress was alive with the activity of his minions, his slaves and his robots. It gave him a deep, satisfying rush of gratification knowing all the activity below was the result of the fear he inspired and the power which he wielded. Yet, he thought to himself, Adora held much power as well. What was this strange power Adora had over him, conquering his greatest fear with her image?  
  
For as long as he could remember Hordack lived in fear of his brother and the torment he could cause. Hordack was not always a Cybernetic freak. He and his brother were both born to the ruling house of Hordeworld. Unfortunately for Hordack, he was born seven years after his brother, the Heir.  
  
He spent his life receiving the same training as his brother but he was not treated as a brother by any stretch of the imagination. As a child, Hordack quickly learned to hide his emotions- indeed, act as if he had none; he was little more than a toy for his brother, one he could play with and dismantle and recreate as often as he wished. Prime delighted in death, in blood, in killing and hurting and he took sadistic pleasure in the cries of others. He killed often and without remorse, many of their tutors were tortured under his malevolent hand as his taste for blood- letting and manslaughter where indulged and catered to after all, he was the heir to an evil empire.  
  
Prime delighted in tormenting him, in causing him pain. His arm bones had to be replaced when he was ten due to the excessive amount of breakage; his eye and heart followed soon after. He lost the eye when Prime decided he wanted to see what would happen if he poured a chemical meant to strengthen and toughen skin in them. Hordack shuddered at the memory. He would never forget the burning agony. He wished only to die. They wouldn't let him of course. He was the 'just in case' heir. Both he and Prime were mortal and should Prime succumb to mortality for any reason Hordack would take his place.  
  
He hated remembering his childhood. But he seemed unable to stop the influx of memories. For some reason, since Adora returned of her own free will, he often found himself replaying images of his life in his mind. When his fears or other emotions became too strong to conquer on his own he would see an image of her standing in front of him, defending him, comforting him. When she killed Leech, avenging those children a strange door in his heart opened and he found himself unable to close it entirely. A bittersweet smile twisted his lips and a strange hunger burned in his eyes. He knew, without question, if Adora had been there when he was a child she would have avenged him as well.  
  
The memories continued.  
  
His heart was replaced when he and Prime were sparring in their hand to hand combat training and his brother purposefully snapped one of his ribs, pushing it through his left ventricle and lung. The doctors saved the lung but the heart had to be replaced. The torture was allowed because Prime was the Heir. He could do anything he wanted to Hordack short of killing him. And he did. Prime didn't only experiment on Hordack, he was often altering himself. Viewing his humanoid body as weakness, he replaced his skeleton with Infinitium. A strange metal, utterly unbreakable and charged with dark energies  
  
When Hordack was twelve he befriended a Kedelvrian Glaarg. It was a small golden quadruped, the size of a wild pig with a long trunk for a nose and short golden fur.  
  
He kept it secret, sneaking out in the evenings to be with it. For hours in the moonlight the child he had been cavorted with the small, friendly creature full of energy and mischief with the long, furry golden snout; he called the thing Wilda, for it was a wild creature and free. He would wrestle it to the ground and it would thrash around with his arm in its mouth but always so careful to leave the skin unbroken; and in their mock combat the years of emotional abuse and physical torture would melt away and his carefree laughter would be heard echoing on the wind. For a child who never knew love and instead knew only pain and fear it was a magical time. One which he treasured. For the first time in his life Hordack felt love. He would sneak her food and play till dawn with his golden friend. For three years he kept his secret and his life became more than a test of endurance. He lived to be with the creature, sometimes merely holding her, crying piteously into her fur and she would lap away his tears with her rough tongue.  
  
When he was with her his hurts seemed to melt away and heal- not merely the hurts of his body but the scars on his soul.  
  
He learned, years later it was a survival technique of Kedelvrian Glaargs to emit waves of magical energy promoting peace and joy in any living being within their range of projection. They also had healing properties, particularly in the tear ducts and salivary glands which was probably why one was found on Horde World. She probably escaped off a merchants space vessel to be sold to scientists or healers. Whatever the reason he was immensely gladdened she came to him.  
  
One evening he joined his brother for dinner- the brothers lived in their own maximum security compound; Prime saw the parents twice a year as they inspected the heir and Hordack never beheld the face of either parent- Hordack entered the dining room to behold a sickening sight. Wilda, dead in the center of the table, her body steaming and seasoned with an array of delectable spices. Her eyeballs lying by her feet and small red fruit in her eye sockets. His stunned gaze flew to his brothers face, who was watching him with a vicious smile of cruel pleasure and sadistic gloating. It took all of Hordack's will to hold back the torrent of hate and anguish threatening to spew from his mouth. Instead he smiled.  
  
A sick and twisted smile. And then he laughed. He laughed, a revolting sound, killing what was left of his soul and causing his heart to shrivel in his chest in horror- for how could he laugh at the dead body of the only creature he ever loved. Despite his best efforts a tear leaked from the corner of one eye. He snorted a few times in mock mirth.  
  
"What's the matter brother," Prime whispered, his smile fading a little at his brothers inexplicable reaction, "does dinner amuse you?" Hordack snorted again before answering.  
  
"Yes, it pleases me fine," his voice was harsh and gravelly, "eat my brother. Eat, for then I will be heir and you will be dead." Prime raised dark eyebrows in speculation.  
  
"A threat? From you?"  
  
"No threat, simply fact." Hordack snorted again to hold back a sob. "Kedelvrian Glaarg have a bacteria within them that renders them indigestible to humanoids. The bacteria multiplies in the colon and kills within twenty four hours. There is no cure." His Brother turned pale, for there was one thing above all else that Horde Prime feared and that was his own mortality. With an angry hiss he turned, leaving the room. Hordack waited until he left, then slowly moved to stand beside Wilda. The only creature in the universe to ever show the lonely little boy any kind of affection. The hurt inside him was made all the more unbearable because he knew if he ever showed any affection for anything it would happen again.  
  
That day a little boy, full of hurt and fear and an unendurable emotional ache vowed never to love, never to suffer this hurt, this pain, this torment again.  
  
He never had.  
  
Four years later an exceptionally lovely courtesan at the Heirs palace showed particular attention to Hordack. He took her to his bed many times, for he was not one to enjoy his brothers castoffs.  
  
"So little brother, you seem to have found a pet you can sneak more than food to, one that seems to favor you in spite of your low standing." Primes voice dripped with derision. Hordack smiled a slow smile that stretched over his then handsome features.  
  
"I guess a beautiful woman such as she prefers laying with a man, rather than a man made monster. No matter how powerful he is."  
  
Hordack awoke the next morning gazing at his own head. During the night His brother had him altered. His brain was transferred to a Skull of indestructible Eurideum and Infinitium, that same mysterious metal making up the skeletal structure of his brother. His body, no longer that of a normal man was a cold blue color, eerily resembling that of a drowned corpse. This new body was a construct of science and magic, large and muscular and nothing like the body he was born with. His arm could transform into any kind of weapon and he learned, as the years passed, how to harness the black energies inside of him and transform his entire body The metal of his skull he later learned was a great source of power, magnifying the evil inside him, magnifying his innate abilities tenfold.  
  
His brother took the woman Hordack had been with as his bride but Hordack could care less. Hordack got a commission in the Horde Army soon after that and studied under many sorcerers and enchanters before becoming a master himself. He became consumed with the desire to change his body, to return some portion of humanity back to his form, ashamed of what he looked like he spent the majority of the beginning of his career covering his body with Horde armor. His research however could avail him nothing. He was denied access to the facilities of Hordeworld and that was where he was changed and probably it was there he would need to go if ever he was to be human again.  
  
Women fled from him in fear, small children wept at the sight of him. He was cursed with a form so hideous it was not to be borne. His body still had all the urges and desires of a normal man but he was anything but normal. His pride would not allow him to force a woman to pleasure him, not after having experienced the joys of the flesh with so many willing women at the palace compound he grew up on. He devoted himself instead to war and conquest, pouring all his sexual frustration into his battles. He surrounded himself with beautiful women and half women because he enjoyed looking at them. He learned years ago to ignore his urges but he enjoyed the more human aspect such feelings roused in him.  
  
Adora was different however. He did not see her as a woman to be desired. She was the one thing in his life he ever allowed himself to cherish. Oh it didn't start out that way. He kidnapped the baby because it would hurt his enemy with every intention of raising the child to be as evil and twisted as he himself was. He delighted in his triumph as he watched frantic despair color the face of Eternia's Sorceress and Man at Arms.  
  
But when he went through the portal that led him to Etheria He was without an army and forced to make do on his own for three months without benefit of any aid for himself or the baby. And during that three months Hordack discovered a marvelous thing. The baby did not fear him. Indeed she depended on him entirely for her survival. But most of all she cried every time he put her down. He held the child in his arms for three months, even as he slept as he waited for his armies to arrive on Etheria. When his army finally arrived the babe was entrenched in his heart.  
  
He raised her. He gave her quarters near his own and though his intentions had been to twist and mold her into an image as cruel as his own he found he could not harm her. It didn't stop him from conquering Etheria or exercising his own brand of torment on the populace. Adora was his. The only thing he cared for. He tried keeping her pure, clean from the taint of his evil.  
  
She was the only living being in an entire Universe that did not shrink from him in fear but rather greeted him with a joyful smile and a tender embrace, he could not harm the child who gazed at him with eyes reminding him of a golden Kedelvrian Glaarg. He raised her to be strong and cunning, pushing her to the limit but kept her isolated from the others. He did not want her spoiled by the destruction he had wrought. When she was eleven years old and her questions began probing deeper and her observations became keener, more perceptive, he acquired the ambitious aid of Light Spinner, an extremely greedy sorceress of immense powers hungry for more. With his aid she was transformed, thus gifted with immense power as her inner core was unlocked and the evil in her heart was released but all that was good inside her utterly destroyed. She cast a spell on Adora, making her believe the Horde served the forces of Good and so Adora served him with unswerving loyalty for years.  
  
Adora was top in her class, she even came out on top when sparring with him, due to her innate acrobatics. She was gifted with a speed and stamina of unsurpassed skill. And in all the years she grew, her devotion never wavered. Until her brother came for her, bearing on his person a sword of white magic which cut through the veil of darkness covering Adora's mind and turned her against him.  
  
Seeing her leave Etheria with Prince Adam, filled him with rage and despair in equal measure. She was leaving him. In his mind he saw the baby she once was, laughing up at him as she gripped his cold blue finger and his only thought was to get her back.  
  
No matter the cost.  
  
When Skeletor betrayed him his fury knew no bounds. He turned his mind and lust for vengeance and blood toward Brightmoon and the rebellion. She-Ra defeated him there. His hatred of her could not be quenched, he only hated Horde Prime more than he hated her. And yet… she saved his life on quite a few occasions. She even cried for him once and when she had for the smallest fraction of a second, as he awakened from his enchanted sleep, he felt he knew her and wanted to offer comfort. Later he convinced himself she merely reminded him of Adora. His Adora as she used to be, when she looked to him to address her hurts.  
  
He loved Adora. He loved her in his secret heart and never would anyone know of it, Her safety depended on that. But he did love her and saying that to himself caused all the shadowy specters of memory to flee before the gilded beauty of his Golden General of Night time and starlight. 


	6. The fall of Blackmoor

Chapter 6: Blackmoor  
  
Boom! Boom! The sound reverberated throughout the palace. Mortar and tiles fell in various places, men and women forming a bucket brigade fought valiantly to douse the fires blazing within the fortress; the stables, though empty were in fames. There was another blaze burning in the armory and a third in the buttery. To the untrained eye it would seem pandemonium reigned but in actuality the people were performing a well orchestrated dance of survival and life. Those not fighting the flames scurried through the banquet hall with buckets of water and bundles of rags and strips of cloth to aid the wounded or the dying. Others carried water to the soldiers on the wall, still more brought them pails of scrap metal and quivers of arrows to use against the enemy. .  
  
"The south wall is falling! Fall back! Fall back!" A mans scream called out above the din. The death cries of men and boys could be heard answering the sound of blaster fire and whoosh of flying arrows.  
  
"Drop the bloody pitch! Burn them all." King Jordain screamed in fury. His head throbbing, blood and sweat dripping from his brow into his eyes. His temple stung from an arrow wound received in the first volley over the wall. His arms were numb as once again he struggled to lift his bow, firing another flaming arrow into the sea of enemy troops below.  
  
His defense was failing. He'd known it would be thus since first stepping out onto the ramparts, gazing over the vast horde army painting the landscape outside the castle walls. His kingdom had fallen days before. It took seven days for Onyx's army to take Blackmoor, four of them were spent conquering his capital city, Thoroon but conquer it she had. The fires from his prize city illuminated the night two evenings past, shaming the stars with the brilliant flames, a fiery prelude to her arrival at his castle gates.  
  
Well, she would have his kingdom, she would have his city and she would have him but she would not have his son or the one thousand horses Blackmoor's royal stables bred. His son would carry those to the rebellion. Even now the steeds and half his garrison were positioned in a valley just south of the kingdom, ready for the flight to Mystacor.  
  
"Some of our own men are down there!" One of his soldiers yelled back at him. King Jordain Dusk of Blackmoor closed his eyes, fighting back weariness, hopelessness and pity. Some of these men had grown old along side him, he'd known them for years, now she was forcing him to order their deaths. He prayed their end would be swift.  
  
"They're dead anyway, pour the pitch, do it now before we lose another wall!" Anguished cries pelted his ears along with the hiss and spat of electrical noise made by destroyed robots. He fired another arrow, managing to wound one of the black clad figures encircling the general.  
  
"Ha! I hope you die slow you miserable bastard!" A crimson bolt of light just missing him as he ducked behind a crenellation in the walls, was his only answer to the vindictive taunt. He was breathing hard, peering around him he saw his soldiers sending down a torrent of arrows, some alive with fire others tipped in venom kept especially for war. His squires, Lloyd and Alexander were busy pouring a vat of boiling sand over the wall and onto their enemies.  
  
He reached toward his brow, wiping the sweat and blood aside with a small green kerchief, a remnant of his dead queen and the woman he had loved all his life and loved still now, ten years after her passing. He fancied that even today, so many years later a hint of her floral scent yet remained in the fabric.  
  
He stood again, loosing a volley of three arrows with such speed as to be defied by reason before ducking behind the wall. Another blast aimed at his head exploded across the masonry near his ear, fragments of rock sprayed off the edge, dusting his face. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, waiting for the fine mist to dissipate.  
  
Through the haze of blood and smoke, above the din of death and destruction, a voice like pure light burst through the darkness of battle and opening his eyes, he beheld his son racing toward him. Even in the midst of his kingdoms ruination the king could not help but smile in pride at his heir. Adonai Dusk, the prince of Blackmoor and his son cut a bold and dashing figure- racing among the soldiers and their squires, deftly avoiding the fire raining down over the walls.  
  
"Father!" He called, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "We must go. To stay would be useless. Onyx has won the day here."  
  
"No. I'm not leaving, my son. I will not abandon my city and my people to this demon." The king's voice was a low, snarling growl as he continued, "I will meet her face to face and show her what freedom really means to us." Adonai grabbed his father by the shoulder, his emerald eyes wide in disbelief.  
  
"Surely you jest?" He cried loudly, in order to be heard above the noise. King Jordain shook his head.  
  
"I've never been more serious in my life boy. Rand and Nathaniel are waiting at the back gates. They will take you to the rebellion, you will be protected by half my garrison. Take the horses and troops and ride for Mystacor."  
  
"No! Father I won't leave you. If you stay, then I will remain at your side." Jordain's eyes flashed with fury and panic and he ripped his sons hand from his shoulder, pushing him back in anger.  
  
"Don't you defy me!" He hissed angrily, white spittle flying from his mouth. "You will take the horses and be gone! I will not have my steeds fall into the hands of the horde beast masters and made into monsters such as what she rides! And you- you must be free to reclaim our kingdom from that hell-bitch!"  
  
"But Blackmoor needs its king!" Adonai yelled back in defiance, his eyes flashing wildly. Jordains eyes shimmered and tears held back until now welled up and fell over his weathered cheeks, beating a path of warmth into his snowy beard. Removing his crowned helm he clasped his sons head to his heart, speaking softly into his ebony hair.  
  
"Blackmoor has a king. The finest king she has ever known." It was more than he could bare to release him but release him he did, "I love you son." He whispered, then, shoving him back Jordain returned the helm to his brow. "Now begone! I've a battle to lose." Adonai gazed in horror not at his father but at his king as understanding washed over him. He was serious. As king, he meant what he said about staying. As his father he meant what he said about his going. Knowing further argument would be useless he burned the image of his father into his minds eye as if keeping a mental picture fresh in his memory would somehow ensure they would meet again before the war was over. Turning he left his father and king to his fate.  
  
Minutes later a chilling crackling sound was heard above the noise of war and the earth shifted beneath his feet. Jordain struggled to maintain his balance.  
  
"Fall back!" His Man-at-arms cried out, "To the inner courtyard! The wall is falling! The wall is falling!" The entire wall beneath him began undulating as the horde sappers completed their job. King Jordain leapt off the wall to the scaffolding beneath it, then leaping off the wooden platform he flew to the ground of the inner courtyard. Dropping into a full body roll he leapt, agilely, to his feet. There weren't many of them left; about fifty men joined him where he stood, forming a circle in the courtyard, their last defensive gesture. Dying screams and squeals peeled over the grim horror of the day like some kind of ghastly music and their was a loud whoosh and roar as the wall crumbled to the ground, a cloud of white dust billowing upward and over the courtyard. Jordain covered his face, breathing through the cloth of his ocher shirt but some of the dust seeped through and into his throat; he began choking as did many of his men.  
  
Horde forces quickly swarmed into the courtyard and over the inner bailey. They were everywhere as they shot their stunners at servants and soldiers running to meet them at the crumbled wall.  
  
"Fall back! Fall back, damn you!" Jordain cried, before being overcome by another bout of coughing. "There's nothing more you can do here!" He wheezed, "save yourselves!" Too many of his people were too loyal. They ran towards the enemy teeming in and fell to their stun blasts or on the points of their swords. Then, like carrion feeders come to gloat and feast on the carnage, a band of dark clad figures walked slowly through the pearly mist. Each of the thirteen messengers of death were armed with twin green prodders. Jordain had eyes only for one of them. Onyx, the handmaiden of Death. He drew his sword. As did his men.  
  
"Surrender." Her wintry voice commanded. A hush seemingly fell over the courtyard.  
  
"Never!" He spat, grimly.  
  
"Yield to me now and mercy will be extended. Fight me, and death will be the gift you bring to your people." She smiled mockingly through her dark face shield. He could envision her eyes beneath the mask she wore, dancing with mirth as she held before him the promise of torment to his people. His sword arm faltered, lowering slightly as his mind raced, searching for an alternative to surrender; one which would not bring harm to his people.  
  
"Drop your weapon and kneel." She commanded imperiously. His gaze lowering, he turned his ashen face to his comrades. They were all watching him, seeking for some silent command as to his will. They would follow him to their deaths, he knew but so many were dead already.  
  
No. He would not have even one more person die for him. If they were to die this day, he would will that they have a clear understanding of why they died. He would not have them die for him, because of him; but for themselves, because they chose life and joy and not merely endurance. If people lost their lives this day it would be because they chose death with freedom in their hearts and on their lips rather than enslavement to the Horde. He lowered his sword. His men followed suit.  
  
"Now, kneel, slave." His fist tightened on the end of his sword and he shook his head, hate alive in his eyes as he gazed on the merciless form of the Horde's Commanding General.  
  
"I will never kneel to you. I am the king of Blackmoor. You are nothing but scum. I will not kneel." The woman raised the emerald flamed prodders threateningly, crouching back on her heel, her voice ringing out in fury over the courtyard.  
  
"You will kneel or you will die where you stand, dog!" He smiled widely, raising his blade, pointing the tip toward her chest.  
  
"I would rather die a free man, than live my life as a slave to your master. Crawl back to your lord, bitch, I am no cur to be brought to heel. I will not be made a slave. Nor will I watch my people suffer such a fate. I will not make the choice for them but for myself- I choose to die free." And so saying he turned his blade toward his chest and fell upon it. His men, Onyx, the Black Guard, all stared in stunned disbelief at the king who fought them with such valiance. His body flopping over, his eyes gazed triumphant at his enemy, blood leaking out the corner of his mouth.  
  
"If this… is the price I must pay… to be free, so be it. I pay… gladly…" Then his eyes grew gray with the twilight of deaths cold embrace; and still Onyx did not move. A cry of anguish rolled down from the countryside to be taken up and echoed in the courtyard. The kings men sprang into action, swords drawn, murder in their eyes, they went for the Black Guard.  
  
Her Guard surrounded her, understanding their leader was helpless at the moment, lost in the throes of some dark obsession. Not a blade got through their protective ring. Not a sword got near enough to touch her as she knelt at the side of the fallen king. Many members of the Horde including some of her guard believed their Lady was Death's woman. They believed she could only be with her love, the lord of the dead, moments after the death of some noble enemy. They had seen it happen before. She would remove her mask kissing the cold dead lips of the fallen, her tears would bathe their face. She would then wipe smooth their frozen dead features with her long golden locks and stand again, a new fire kindled in her black heart and they would advance on a new town, find new victims and create more conquests. For her need was theirs and they new she must be sated.  
  
Far and away on a hilltop outside the city Prince Adonai saw his fathers final act in the name of freedom through a telescope. A hoarse cry of anguish was ripped from his throat and carried on the wind into the courtyard of his fathers kingdom. Throwing the tool to the ground in terrified rage and despair, he began running down the hillside, heedless to the calls of his men, needing only to reach his fathers side. His two sub- commanders, Rand and Nathaniel chased after him, wrestling him to the ground, and he fought them. How he fought them. Howling his pain to the uncaring sky.  
  
"My King!" They called, over and over. They would not strike him, though they were now bleeding and bruised from blows he inflicted upon them, trying to escape their custody. Finally, as some semblance of sanity returned, he fell to his knees and wept. Wept like a child for he knew it was true. He was king now and his father lay dead. He was king of a fallen kingdom for Blackmoor belonged to the Horde and its bitch. How long they sat there on the grassy knoll he did not know. He only knew he wept until he was dry and he sobbed until he was hoarse and when he was finally silent his soul continued to mourn. Eventually his men were able to assist him atop his horse and they rode to Mystacor as if the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels.  
  
They never looked back.  
  
Unknown to them, every man and woman left in the kings palace fought to the death when they could and to unconsciousness when a stun gun robbed them of their choice. None would be taken alive or conscious. It was a night of mourning for the forces of good and an evening of shame for the forces of evil. As they rode toward Mystacor hatred such as he'd never known rose up in Adonai's heart and he vowed his fathers death would be avenged and his kingdom reclaimed and someday Onyx would fall upon his blade. 


	7. Shaddamite's Mystic

Chapter 7  
  
  
"Are you sure you can handle this, sorceress- I won't have my people die for nothing." Castaspella ground her teeth together as Anvil repeated the question for a third time that morning. His shoulders were tense and he couldn't stand still. He was nervous, she assumed he got that way before a fight every time; or perhaps it was just so much was riding on her.   
  
She repeatedly assured him that her powers were equal to the task at hand, she would not have proposed such a plan otherwise. They were going to take the outpost, raid it for supplies and technology and- unknown to Cast, kill the Commander in charge. A pig faced worm known as Commander Targ. He was an Impallan, one of the various races allied with the galactic Horde, Casta knew nothing about his species save they had willingly joined the Horde and were usually given ranks of honor in the Horde army. This one had obviously done something to displease Horde Prime to be given such an ignoble position on this lowly planet. He was greedy and stupid but not to be under estimated.   
  
A convoy of Battle tanks were refueling at the Valcourian outpost and the parts would make valuable salvage for barter as well as weapons to be used against their makers. They would not take whole tanks because it would be impossible to hide their trail with them and even more impossible to maneuver them through the canyons where they made camp. Commander Targ had under him two regiments consisting of forty guards, all armed with lasers as well as turret cannons, the battle tanks and one squad of outdated batniks were the limits of his defenses. He also had a battalion of robot troops with a very old program they would be easy to dispatch. The spy inside would destroy the shield generator and give the signal to attack.  
  
Anvil wanted to sneak in, kill the men and steal the technology, quickly, silently, stealthily. But Casta felt a strong need and desire to prove herself useful and powerful to the rebel commander; she opted for a full frontal assault. Her plan was to create a barrier of mystical energy around their people, allowing openings only when her people fired on the enemy. No weapon would touch them, no energy bolt or missile fired would land and the attack could be swiftly done with an impressive show of strength and power. If it worked the surviving enemies would report to Razita, the Shaddamite Force Captain, of the powerful Mystic aiding the rebels. It would take great energy and intense focus to control the power of the spell but Casta knew she was more than capable of the feat. They all understood her capabilities were limited to time. She would be able to run the barrier for twenty minutes at the most, plenty of time if they hurried, before her concentration would begin to falter.  
  
She merely nodded her head to the rebel leader, not bothering to acknowledge his grunting reply.   
  
"Then prepare yourself sorceress, there's the signal!" He hissed. A piercing whistle filled the air from the fortress, breaking the still silence that lay over the land at midday and coloring the blue sky above the compound with gold and ruby sparks, a burst of multicolored stars crackled briefly above the area.  
  
"Now!" A cry echoed from the trees, down the line. It was the warrior maid, Chandra, her blades drawn and the light of battle lust in her eyes, staining her cheeks with a fiery blush. With a cry, the rebels burst from the forest and ran toward the compound.   
  
Turning all her attention inward, Castaspella felt herself merge with the spirit of life on Etheria. She was one with creation, effortlessly maneuvering the planets energy which lay like a blanket upon the face of the land to act as a shield for her warriors. Watching with spirit eyes she seemed to view things in intensely slow motion, time had no meaning, no hold on her as she opened and closed holes within the pulsing golden barrier she had erected. Red beams lazily swooped from the walls to bounce harmlessly off her shield. Robots fizzled and fell where they touched it. The enemy continued to rain fire upon the advancing force to no effect. Several rebels carrying a battering ram ran at the door to the palisade. Castaspella added a touch of the earths energy to their impetus and they crashed through the steel door like it was papier-mâché.   
  
The rebels, led by Anvil, swarmed in like hungry ants on a fresh kill. The enemy soldiers were quickly subdued and casualties were at a minimum. Twelve horde soldiers were killed and the robots completely destroyed. Commander Targ however, was barricaded in his quarters with several of his soldiers and refused to come out.   
  
Casta came back to herself, slightly dizzy with the amount of power she had called on. Her eyes had a smoldering golden glow that would not fade for sometime. Flanked by Jornin and Jadzia, the peacock people she had brought with her, both armed with long spears tipped with venom, for her protection as well as their own, she walked quickly toward the palisade. Within the walls she found Anvil and Chandra deep in conversation and she walked towards them. The warrior maid glanced up at her approach and her face lit up with a genuine smile reaching her obsidian eyes, tiny lines forming at their slanted corners signifying real pleasure.  
  
"Castaspella, that was amazing magic you worked back there, it could've gone a lot worse than it did." Casta smiled in return but her attention was on Anvil. The tall black man simply nodded a quick agreement, frowning fiercely the entire time.   
  
"If we get one of the laser cannons and aim it at his quarters we could blast the door down and take him by force." He gruffly muttered. Chandra nodded slightly in agreement.  
  
"It will take some time do disconnect one of the lasers from the turrets and reposition it here but since we are doing it anyway I don't see a problem with your plan. I just hate to lose the manpower for the salvage operation to guard the pig."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Casta questioned. Chandra turned her attention back to the young but apparently powerful young sorceress.  
  
"Commander Targ is hiding in his quarters with several of his men. We can't get in because apparently he has a small energy shield in his quarters specifically designed to shield him from attack. Until he is contained or placed out of commission he poses a danger to our people." Chandra explained.  
  
"Besides," Anvil snarled, "I was looking forward to slitting his throat." Castaspella stared in shock at the vituperous hatred emanating from the man she was so attracted to.  
  
"Is not the sacredness of life a tenet taught in Shaddamite?" She asked, uncertain and uneasy. Anvil turned his flaming eyes on her, looking at her fully for the first time since the attack began.  
  
"Yeah it's taught. Which is why Targ must die." Castaspella frowned fiercely.  
  
"Even the lives of the enemy should be sacred, it is possible for all people to change."  
  
"Lady, you better shut your mouth, Impallens have no place on Etheria." Chandra laid a hand on Casta's arm shaking her head warningly.  
  
"Impallan's feed on people. Didn't you know?" Castaspella turned white. The horror of such a repugnant reality forcing its way, like a parasite, burrowing into her mind with vivid images that had her feeling faint.  
  
"What?! I…I had no idea…" An intense anger built up inside her. Burning her. Nausea and revulsion as she never felt rose up in her being. She was a leader and the plight of the people was her own. Her people had been made into meals for this animal. "I knew the horde were evil, I knew they were ruthless, they are my enemy," Her wide doe-eyes locked on Chandra's face in panic but there was no comfort to be found there, "but I never… even from them…" It was too much. The powerful swing of her emotions coupled with the mental fatigue of the spell and the residual energy effects of the magic took over, the magik's she had previously been filled with, which lay dormant till now, overrode her control, merging with the maelstrom of anger and disbelief and disgust inside her. Instinct held her in its thrall now. Jerking around she aimed her upright palm at a door several rebels were guarding and with eyes blazing golden power she unleashed her fury.  
  
"Apart." She hissed. The metal door exploded, shrapnel flew everywhere, there were cries of shock and surprise, one man cried out with pain as a piece of the metal embedded itself into his back, his companions dragged him off. She did not notice this however as a dozen scarlet energy beams tried to take her down; her body absorbed the energy making her aura glow crimson.  
  
"Melt." She snarled and the blasters firing at her melted, molten metal burning the hands that held them, incapacitating the soldiers. Rebels poured in to tie them up, slamming their weapons against resisting skulls to silence protests sure to come. The green faced Impallen squealed in terror, running to the back of the room, kneeling in a corner. He made a rather comical sight. He was a large, fat, five foot pig, kneeling and snorting in fear at the sight of the pagan goddess before him surrounded in a crackling aura of unspeakable power. Pity stirred her heart and her power flickered briefly, pointing at the pig she whispered a word allowing her access to his heart. She would see if this beast truly deserved to die. With the compassion that made her such a good and wise ruler she opened herself to the heart of her enemy.  
  
"Truth." She breathed.  
  
A maelstrom of images assaulted her then. She saw through his memories her people, sons and daughters of Etheria from the very young to the very old each one he consumed, every small young innocent roasted over a pit and devoured by his rapacious appetite. She felt herself getting lost in the swirling images, only her anger was powerful enough to lead her out of the torment she had created, this she clutched to and pulled her way out of the chasm in her mind, opened by such an alien evil. Her horror and fury erupted with a word.  
  
"Death."   
  
Commander Targ emitted a final squeal before exploding into green, bloody, oozy, bits of stinking mucus tinged flesh. Castaspella fell to her knees and began to vomit and cry. Her sobs were piercing. So full of grief and horror. She wept alone in the midst of the gore and violence she had created, no one dare touch her, too afraid of what they had just witnessed. The air in the compound was heavy and still, the smell, putrid as the lone woman on her knees gave vent to an innocence lost. Her shoulders shook as the mighty sobs spasmed their sorrowful path throughout her body. Her muscles grew limp, exhausted by her pain and the amount of power she had channeled.   
  
Suddenly she felt two powerful arms wrap around her and clutch her tightly against a massive chest. She smelled his scent and cried all the harder. She had wanted to appear strong, to act as powerful and commanding as he and yet here she was, weeping in his arms like the smallest of children. But she couldn't seem to stop. The horror of what she had seen was too fresh, too vivid in her mind. But she had asked for it, not really believing even the Horde capable of such horrors. The naivety of the North-West was stripped from her now and she fully understood, finally, why Adora was forced to do as she had. The first ones were right, Adora was their only hope   
  
The west was naïve in their ignorance, not fully understanding what the Horde was, protected by She-Ra and the rebellion, as well as Mystacor and Brightmoon and various other kingdoms, they were unaware of the true cruelty of the Horde. The East had long ago fallen and was ruthlessly held under its control. They knew the terror they fought, it was time Adora awoke the people of Etheria, that they could look on the Horde with new eyes and fight for the cherished hope of freedom.  
  
Anvil held the woman in his arms as she cried her grief, trembling, a bit in awe of the power he had just witnessed. His emotions were reflected in the face of his comrades as well. They had just seen a man killed with a word. They all gazed at the women he held, with awe and fear and a glimmer of something he hadn't seen in a long while.   
  
Hope.  
  
As her sobbing subsided Anvil scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the stench and into the bright sun and clean air where she could recover herself from her horror and regain her lost composure. 


	8. Reflections in Uncertainty

Chapter 8  
  
"Why master Norwyn, why can't I do spells like Spinner?" The capricious young girl asked from the ground, her brown eyes sparkling with frustrated intelligence. The three of them sat in a circle with legs crossed in the gardens, at the palace at Mystacor. The sun was golden and the sky was blue and the air was light and warm. The sounds of birds singing in the trees could be heard all around them as well as the gentle splash of water from the fountain. The occasional glurp of a gribbet could be heard as well as they gazed in confusion at the large orange fish in the ponds they shared.  
  
"Little one," the old man replied, "you are far too young to handle the amount of power required to maintain control over a spell. You see, life, all life, has an energy. The trees, the animals, people- even the rocks have energy. Each things energy is dominant in its own form. When you seek to use that energy for your own ends it wars with you for control. A sorceress must have absolute control of her emotions. She must be a center of calm in a tempest of discordance. If you lose control for even a second, however brief, your dominance is lost. You become a creature of instinct, of passion, logic and reason and often, mercy is forsaken."  
  
"But I just want to learn a little spell." The child crossed her arms and made a face. "Spinner, is always making magic and I'll never be as good as her!" The older girl, showing the first signs of womanhood with a gentle flare at her hips and small buds on her chest, smiled at the child and leaned forward, grabbing her around the waist and tickling her until she dissolved in a fit of giggles, her blond hair falling to brush the childs face.  
  
"Then it's a good thing you'll always have me here to look out for you, so you don't get in trouble!" The smile was tender and full of love. Castaspella reached up and grabbed the hair of the young woman in a playful tug. She always felt safe in Light Spinner's arms.  
  
They were both orphans, Casta didn't remember her parents at all and Light Spinner didn't talk about hers. They had found each other in the orphanage each recognizing in the other a kindred spirit. They had not been separated in four years. Casta was eight- she thought- and Light Spinner was thirteen. When Norwyn, the great Mage of Mystacor came to the orphanage seeking an apprentice the other kids had been a little frightened but Casta had stolen Spinner's red ribbon and Spinner was chasing her yelling at her to give it back. Casta ran right into the strange, forbidding old man and fell down. Light Spinner, seeing what happened, grabbed her small charge and placed her little body behind her slightly larger one and glared unflinchingly at the old man, as if daring him to hurt the child. The old man bent down, his bones creaking and he took the hand of the girl in front of him into his own age-spotted one.  
  
"Sisters would do well to learn some manners. You are a very brave young girl." Light Spinner said nothing just looked at the old man, a wary light in her eyes. Casta however was thrilled that this stranger thought the beautiful girl, Light Spinner, was her sister and she wanted to play it up.  
  
"This is my sister." She cried with a bright sunny smile and she launched herself into Light Spinners arms. She caught her with ease and hefted her onto her back where the four year old clung like a monkey. Light Spinner smiled.  
  
"Yeah well, who's going to teach us manners here. We're lucky if we get fed at night." Light Spinner retorted. The old man smiled and his eyes crinkled. He didn't seem near as frightening now.  
  
"Well, how about I teach you. Manners, among many other wondrous things." And he lead Light Spinner and Castaspella out of the dreary gray world of the orphanage into a world of bright color and joy, a world full of promise and mystery and magic.  
  
Now, in the garden the old man stood.  
  
"Continue your meditation exercise. A sorceress must have great self discipline and perfect control over her emotions in order to wield the greatest magics. Ambition, love, anger, passion, fear, all must be held tightly under control. To lose sight of this at any time, can lead you down a path filled with darkness. A path from which one might never return." Leaning heavily on his walking stick and lifting his red robes ever so slightly the silver haired old man walked back into the palace, leaving the girls in the bright warm sunshine of the gardens alone.  
  
"Do you think I ever will be as strong as you Spinner?" Casta asked her dark eyes shining with seriousness.  
  
"No." Her friend replied. "You will be strong," and she smiled a crooked grin, "you are after all my sister and I am helping to train you, but I will always be stronger, one day I will be the strongest sorceress in the world!" This was said with such fervency that even as young as she was Castaspella shivered slightly. A troubled frown marked her forehead.  
  
"Will you still love me when you're the most powerful sorceress in the world?" Light Spinner laughed gaily and standing she grabbed the girl by the arms, flipping her over her shoulders she spun her around and around in circles very fast until they were both so dizzy neither could stand, her soft giggles and Casta's shrieks of laughter could be heard throughout the palace. Tumbling to the ground they landed in a heap on the soft summer grass. Light Spinner trailed a finger over Castaspella's nose, smiling gently.  
  
"I will always love you. You were given to me, remember? Even in the dark times when we had nobody else, we still had each other. Nothing will ever change that. We're family. We're all we got." Casta grabbed Light spinners hand.  
  
"And Norwyn too! He doesn't have anybody but us, so he's family too." Light Spinner felt her smile dim but she nodded in agreement.  
  
"And don't forget the magic." Light Spinner added playfully.  
  
"I don't think I could if I wanted to. I wish I could do magic like you!" Castaspella sighed. Light Spinner smiled.  
  
"You will, someday. Now run, or I'll get you!" Casta stood, squealing with glee and running as fast as she could for the cover of the cherry orchard. Light Spinner followed quietly tossing beams of light towards her sister. The two girls having grown up in an orphanage or on the streets had never had toys and play was a concept they took to right from the start. Only their toys were the palace, the gardens and the magic they learned from their teacher, Norwyn.  
  
It was a golden time in the girls lives, a time when many things would be learned, lives would change, destinies be shaped and sadly, some things forgotten as love for power replaced a love for people. But for Castaspella, it was the time when life truly began. She didn't remember much about her life prior to Norwyn. All she could remember was Light Spinner keeping her safe.  
  
It was the lesson though, that made her remember. The lesson of Norwyn. A lesson he had repeated many times over the years and one she thought she had learned. She had failed. She knew better, she had a lifetime of experience behind her and the example of her lost sister to act as warning and still she had failed. Failed her people, her master but worst of all herself. Because even as she sat in the still darkness of his tent she could feel no remorse for the Impallen's death and only a sweet little thrill of satisfaction. He got what he deserved. She also feared she'd do it all again- not for the sake of justice, but merely to be held in his arms. Her body came alive at the mere thought and she shamelessly relived every sweet second when he held her so tenderly and rocked her so gently and calmed her soul and made her feel so very safe and protected. He allowed her to be weak. A feeling she had not been allowed to entertain since she took up control of Mystacor.  
  
  
  
A tap came at the entrance to the cave she was sharing with Jornin and Jadzia.  
  
"Enter." She called. It was Chandra. She was still dressed in the crimson leather and chain mail, her ebony hair however was flowing freely and she smiled warmly at the enchantress. In both hands she held a pint of a fruity smelling brew.  
  
"I brought you this." She said, offering one of the pints to Castaspella. "Come. Join us. The feast is in your honor as well as our own." Casta took the offered drink and sniffed it. Her stomach growled but she put the decoction down.  
  
"My thanks for your thoughtfulness, but I can not indulge in spirits while I am linked to my homeland. I could lose cohesion and that could kill me." Chandra laughed nervously.  
  
"Okay then, but you should still join us there is much to celebrate. You have brought such hope to the people." Put that way Casta couldn't refuse so she stood and followed the dark warrior maid from the cave.  
  
There was a large bonfire and many people were dancing and drinking and laughing. The smell of roasting meat filled the air, deer, wild grouse, beef from the herds of wild cows that roamed the plains to the south. There were also swordfish and Marlin from the inland seas as well as crabs and lobsters, calamari was being boiled in some kind of sauce and the deliciouis aromas of steamed cabbage, greens and onions peppered the air with their delectable aroma's. Music also filled the camp, boisterous, loud, raucous, couples laughing with sheer joyful exuberance danced in time to the beat. The rebels of Shaddamite were a swarthy people, most had black hair, some in shades of rich velvet brown, their skintones varied in shades of soft cinnamon to dark ebony. They dressed in rich primary colors, blues and yellows and reds and oranges. It seemed the taking of the outpost was a cause for great celebration.  
  
Casta grabbed a plate made from a peace of scrap metal and loaded it with a rabbit haunch and some steamed vegetables and a sweetcake made of honey and some kind of bitter grain she couldn't identify. The taste was sweet and exotic with a hint of citrus.  
  
"Why are they all so happy?" Casta questioned her companion through a mouthful of food.  
  
"You." Chandra replied. Castaspella started to choke on a piece of meat and Chandra delivered several forceful blows to her back before she regained her wind.  
  
"Me!" She gasped. "What did I do?"  
  
"You brought them new hope. They think with such a powerful enchantress on our side we will surely defeat Razita and eventually Modulok himself. Before today these people you see dancing so joyously were grim faced, resigned to their fate of an early death in a cause doomed to fail. After what you did today they believe they just might live to see their homes, their lands, their families free." Casta looked down at her plate, her appetite suddenly fled.  
  
"What is it they think I can do? I am still just one woman."  
  
"You are more than that. You are the mystic who can kill with a word."  
  
"Excuse me ladies," a deep baritone interjected into Casta's troubled musings, "may I have this dance." Casta looked up and found herself staring into his amazing dark eyes. He gazed at her with a question and an almost unnoticeable vulnerability. She reached out and grabbed one golden arm, putting her plate down with the other hand.  
  
"I'd love to." She responded. He lead her out into the crush and began spinning her around in time to the music, making her giddy as the stars whirled by over head. She tossed back her head and laughed out loud.  
  
"I like to see you laugh runt." He smiled.  
  
"I like to see you smile pig." She grinned back.  
  
"You're an amazing woman. I admit, I under estimated you. I'd be glad to have you at my back any day." She looked down, her smile fading.  
  
"What is it?" He asked seeing the joy she had previously displayed melt away like snow from a mountain peak in spring.  
  
"I can't do what I did today. I can't do it again. I shouldn't have done it." He could tell she was shaken. He led her out of the throng and over by a ledge that overlooked the shore line by the inner sea.  
  
"What shouldn't you have done? Killed a murdering tyrant? Used your powers to destroy a monster? I don't understand?"  
  
"I shouldn't have lost control."  
  
"You mean after you killed him? Lady, you're a woman and no offense but woman tend to get emotional about stuff like killing. Unless your Shan tui' Sar- they like that."  
  
"I mean when I killed him. I lost control of the magic. It controlled me." She whispered softly.  
  
"Oh. That." He answered lamely. Anvil was a physical man. He understood the physical nature of things, the swing of a sword or a war hammer, the bite of a knife into skin, the feel of a soft caress like the one she was unwittingly giving him as she lay her hand on his chest. He didn't comprehend the powers she spoke of and wielded with such finesse and precision. Truth be told they spooked him. Made him uneasy. But that was easily overlooked when he held her in his arms in the darkness with the stars shining above them and the reflection of firelight shining on her hair and the sounds of revelry all around them.  
  
"I lost someone very dear to me that way. She let the magic control her and it destroyed her. I can't let that happen to me. Too many people's lives depend on me." Her anxiety was apparent in the tension in her shoulders and the way she held herself and wrung her hands.  
  
"Look, from where I'm standing you did the right thing. A thing needs killing and I say kill it. You did that case closed. If you're worried about losing control, well, learn from this experience and move on. This isn't a time for self doubt. With you here we need to work on getting to Shadowen and taking out Razita and her minions."  
  
"That's the third time I've heard about this Razita. She's a force Captain right." Castaspella saw a familiar look of feral hatred slide across anvils face.  
  
"Yeah. She leads the scum around here and keeps order. She has a lot of little toadies who like to lick her boots and she keeps them in charge of the towns here in Shaddamite but she Controls Shadowen, the capital and only she knows the secret location of Modulocks GMOEN laboratory."  
  
"What does she look like?" Casta questioned softly.  
  
"She has long curved razors for arms and spiked body armor. She likes to cut things and make them bleed. She looks like some kind of mutated bug but her face is. exquisite. Large almond eyes typical of her people."  
  
"You mean there are more of her kind? More bug women with razor arms?" Casta asked mouth agape.  
  
"No. She was one of Modulok's more successful experiments. She used to be Shan tui' Sar."  
  
"You mean like Chandra?" She asked. He nodded.  
  
"She, like all her people was a warrior to the core, conquest and challenge were her livelihood, but then she joined the Horde and brought dishonor to her people. The Shan tui' Sar don't believe in fighting those weaker then them. They are blade masters, training from child hood to be the best. No one is better than a Shan tui' Sar with a sword and I mean no one. Razita delights in slaughter no matter who her victims are." She detected a note of bitterness in his voice as he continued.  
  
"The council of Blade Masters sent six of their best after her when her exploits got back to their mountain home." He snorted, "Not that it did them any good. They were too late to help my family or my village and she was already changed by then."  
  
"How long ago was this?" Castaspella queried.  
  
"Five years ago. My village fell two years before that."  
  
"And what happened to the blade masters? Why haven't they stopped Razita?"  
  
"They're all dead. All but one."  
  
"By Razita?" Castaspella whispered.  
  
"Yep. She took pleasure in killing them eviscerating them in front of each other, she tortured them for days. People in Shadowen still talk about the screaming that went on for days."  
  
"You said there was one left. What. what happened to her?"  
  
"She went mad." He answered inaudibly.  
  
"And Razita let her live?" He nodded.  
  
"Only because I rescued her." Her eyes widened  
  
"You. you rescued her from Razita;s stronghold?"  
  
"Yep." She pondered what he had said.  
  
"It's a shame she went crazy. She would have made a powerful ally."  
  
"She is. Just because she went mad doesn't mean she can't fight, if anything the madness made her fiercer than before." Casta's eyes slowly widened as comprehension slowly dawned.  
  
"You don't mean-"  
  
"Yeah, you've met her. Chandra is the last Blade Master sent to stop Razitta and she was our only hope to destroying her."  
  
"Was?" Casta asked curiously.  
  
"Till now." Anvil replied looking deep into her eyes. "Now we have you." 


	9. Bounty Hunter and uneasy kitten

Chapter 9  
  
Hordack waited impatiently for the large, decrepit space cruiser to land. The clearance had been given hours ago. The bounty hunter, DT was aboard and he waited impatiently for her to land, his ire growing each minute she delayed.  
  
The engines gave a loud squealing roar as the antigrav kicked in and the ship landed with a loud metallic thud. A door, the same steel shade as the rest of the ship opened and a walkway poured out of the gaping, metal maw with slow, unwieldy grace. A moment later a warrior appeared in the entrance, strutting easily to the ground, standing before Hordack, arms lazily resting at her sides, legs spread in a defiant pose, her chin tilted at an imperious angle.  
  
She stood almost as tall as he, her bodysuit appeared to be a shimmering jade satin, clinging to her like a wet and glistening second skin, devious in the softness it gave her. The material was impenetrable, no weapon could cut the fabric, it absorbed energy bolts like harmless rays of light. It was a gift from Horde Prime. A gift extremely lavish in its rarity.  
  
The material was silk, spun by Shambalan worms. The species was native to Horde world, the hermaphrodites, like the silk they spun were invulnerable to any weapon. They spun the silk only once after breeding and then they died. Their life cycles lasted fifty years, the breeding season came twice once at ten and again at twenty, they spun silk for fifteen years before entering a deep slumber culminating in death. They grew to be larger than a small ship and only had litters of one or two young. Because the species was only found on Horde world the material was highly prized and sought after by the most powerful warlords in the Universe. Not even Hordack owned any of the precious and coveted fabric.  
  
The woman wore a helmet of steel; pulled through a hole in the top was a long swirling mane of golden hair. Her face was a perfect oval, with lightly defined cheekbones giving her a plump but pleasant look. She hardly had any upper lip at all but her lower lip was a full red velvety rose petal of ripe luscious sensuality. She had pale green eyes, like chips of jade glass, hard and worn with time. They seemed too old to appear in her face. The cleft in her chin gave her a distinctive and stubborn aura. On her face she wore a look of bored tolerance as she gazed around the fright zone.  
  
"Greetings DT. I had expected you much sooner." His voice revealed his displeasure at the unexplained wait. She ignored it, eyeing Hordack as if he were a repulsive little bug she ought to be squishing, her lip curling slightly.  
  
"My name is Double Trouble to you," her voice was deep and husky with a faint accent lending it a musical quality, "I came when I could. I do not relish returning to this-" and here her voice sneered in disgust, "this backwater planet. It holds many unpleasant memories for me." Hordack refused to acknowledge the reference to their last meeting.  
  
He was new to Etheria and was making his presence known doing what he did best. Bringing war to the peaceful planet. DT had just been a child when he stole her from her parents, burning their farm to the ground and selling the father into slavery. He was sent to the mines, he was forced to kill the mother when she attempted to flee with her child. Even then DT had shown the promise of the beauty she would one day become. Being a beautiful girl child, there was a large market for them in the galaxy. She was shipped off planet and sent to Horde world where she was sold to a bounty hunter with a taste for young flesh. Apparently when he died she simply took over the family business, quickly making a name for herself and earning the favor of the galaxy's leading warlord.  
  
It was that favor which brought her here. Hordack knew if Horde Prime appreciated her talents she was no amateur fool like the minions under him. He agreed to pay her exorbitant amount in Etherium in exchange for the disposal of the seeress, Peekablu.  
  
"Do you have an image of this woman," she sneered with snide sarcasm, "this mighty heroine of life and light that the evil horde can't handle?"  
  
Hordack snorted angrily, squinting his eyes in rage at her impertinence. In a mean voice he answered, hurling a holopad at her chest. She caught it with swift ease never batting an eye.  
  
"I could handle her easily. She is weak, simple, it is her potential which must be eliminated. I am busy in the north and cannot take the time to dispose of the bird woman. I can't leave it to my underlings either. They're all fools. My most trusted General, however, has ties that I am not willing to test. just yet." Double Trouble didn't look at him once as he spoke, he had a feeling she was ignoring him, finding him unworthy of her attention. That rankled. She pressed the small gray button on the base of the pad and a three dimensional image of Peekablu appeared in her hand. She let out a low whistle of appreciation.  
  
"Pretty birdie." She turned her pale jade eyes to Hordack's black pits. "What threat does she pose?"  
  
"I drove her people from their homeland and sealed up their sacred temple, the Ivory Citadel over twenty years ago. Its been dormant since I had their holy woman enslaved and shipped off world. It's recently shown signs of stirring. Rumors have reached me claiming the Peacock woman's powers are growing. I cannot allow her people to gain control of that tower or I could lose my hold on this continent."  
  
"Do you want her dead or merely removed." The woman asked arching one graceful falcon-brow.  
  
"Both. They are the same. If she is the Holy woman of her people and the change has already occurred the second she leaves the planets atmosphere she will die, just as her predecessor did. You choose, kill her now or later, at your pleasure."  
  
"I need a land cruiser."  
  
"Done."  
  
"What of payment?"  
  
"I'll see that its loaded while your gone." She nodded. Then before he could react she grasped him by the throat and slammed him to the ground. Hordack gazed in stunned disbelief at the woman looming over him with so feral a look of hatred in her eyes, her lips curled in a vicious sneer.  
  
"Don't disappoint me Hordack. I only agreed to aid you at the behest of your brother. He did warn me though. You are scum. If you try to double- cross me I will lay waste to the fright zone and see all your efforts toward world domination come to ruin. I remember what you did to my family. I'd thank you- but the sight of you sickens me unto death. Thanks to you I didn't become some farmers wife, I got to see the galaxy and become a woman to be feared through several star systems. But I know you Hordack. I see your cruel pleasure in death and torment every time I close my eyes. Don't betray me. You will regret it if you do." Hordack stood, his face reflecting his displeasure.  
  
"You have my brothers favour. Not mine. You just do your job and get off world. Quickly. If I see you again you will not survive the meeting." His voice shook with his rage, but she merely smiled.  
  
"We understand each other then?"  
  
"Quite."  
  
  
  
Catra and her battalion stood guard at the tower's gate. Her orders were to kill all who approached on sight until Commanding General Onyx took the tower. She was Not to go inside for any reason. That order rankled. She itched for a fight, unfortunately for her, her guards recognized the restless pacing and the tight way she held her shoulders together as she waited. Onyx was being assigned to take command of Rendwoll at the height of the siege of Brightmoon. For some reason Hordack felt this stupid tower was more worthy of his pet general than the capital city of the rebellion. She grinned in wicked delight. Perhaps he didn't quite trust Adora to take up arms against her former comrades. Catra didn't fully believe the tower was so important. Still, there was something different, something unusually intense about it. When she first arrived a month ago it had seemed like just another structure. However, daily it grew on her mind. As if it were awakening and watching her.  
  
Her curiosity was intense. The structure was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was smooth as glass and seemed to glow under the moonlight. It was a golden ivory, Catra couldn't settle on just one color, for it changed and shifted between the two, as if lit from within.  
  
The massive Jade doors seemed to call to her, beckoning her closer, willing her to enter and plunder the secrets which lay within. This was the reason for her turmoil. Fear of reprisal warred with the voices in her head calling her forward. They were making her see things. Images. Strange. Erratic.  
  
Flames. People dancing in flame. She hissed into the night. There was no reply. Then again she hadn't expected any. With a low growl she pulled down her mask, felt the liquid heat, pull and pulsate throughout her body as the change took place. She flowed forward toward the earth. Her soles thickening, her claws lengthened, fur bloomed like spring over her skin and her hair disappeared and her sense of smell sharpened. She inhaled the earth. The scents of wood and stone and dirt and leaves filled her nostrils. She smelled the arachnid spinning its web hurriedly in the evening dew, smelled the pulse of life in the city, now under martial law, smelled decay from the sewers and sex from the downtown district and she smelled power.  
  
Growling deep in her throat she turned her gaze back to the tower. It called to her. Even in this form it tempted her forward. Her dark eyes gleamed in the darkness and she leapt into a run.  
  
Blood pounding in her ears, muscles straining and pulling, her heart throbbed in her chest. Stores of frustrated energy burst through her limbs as she raced a circuit round the town. She passed houses full of people, some cowering in fear, some sleeping innocently, some plotting. She passed the market place with its boarded up shops and empty vendors stands and rubbish piles and midden heaps. Her legs devoured the earth with effortless ease and grace; in one magnificent leap of pure feline beauty she jumped the wall encircling the town and found herself racing through fields of corn, wheat and barley. She could feel the mice scurrying for cover and sense the serpents freezing in wariness as she sped through the night. She passed the forcefield generator and the eight newly constructed guard towers without a glance. The battletanks hidden strategically around the perimeter of the town were also neglected by her heightened senses as she raced. She knew the security was tight; only She-Ra could get through the towns defenses to the tower if she wanted to and she was gone.  
  
Catra did a complete circuit of Rendwoll and then leapt into the branches of a towering orbora. Settling into one of its long overhanging salmon shaded boughs she lay her head on her paws and gazed broodingly at what lay before her.  
  
The tower.  
  
The tower and the voices invading her mind. They called to her. Should she answer? Did she dare? 


	10. Empress in chains

Chapter 10  
  
Frosta, Empress of Ice Mountain glided alongside her small force of guards on a path of ice which shot from her fingers, her unique control over the element of ice and wind and air keeping her footing securely fixed on the edge, propelling her forward. Three guards rode silently on cobalt colored snow sleds, the engines purring with a light sound accompanied by a gentle vibration, their sharp-eyed gaze taking in everything in their surroundings. They were riding to a peace conference on the border of Acheon, the farthest demesne under her power which ran alongside the territory of the Sulkies.  
  
The Sulkies were a tribe of people resembling the seals of the sea, they were bipeds, like humans but they had seal like features and were quick to anger. She had been able to form an uneasy peace with their people four years ago, with the help of She-Ra, but the old king had died and his son took over. That was when the trouble began.  
  
King Narwa had been a wise and benevolent ruler. He cared for his people and he had sought an alliance with her. He preferred to see his people prosper in peace than bleed and die in a war for conquest and power. His son was not so wise. He lusted after the power of the Mountain.  
  
Ice Mountain was ancient, older than even Frosta knew. Frosta's family had ruled there for centuries, protecting the resting place of the Ice Elemental Ooo'ha.  
  
Legend had it that two elementals- one of Ice and one of fire were lovers. They traveled the universe together for eons. When they first found Etheria it was a magnificent land of unsurpassed beauty, full of life and color and climates of many kinds. The elementals, Ooo'ha and Zeee'na decided they were weary of travel and Etheria would make a good home. Zeee'na settled in the south in the land known as the Crimson wastes and Ooo'ha made her realm in the north, in the land of the tundra, ice and snow. As the elementals aged, they grew weary, yearning for sleep, but they did not wish to be captured and have their powers used by the unscrupulous.  
  
Those with the proper knowledge could cage an elemental and use its power as they saw fit; the two beings had seen this happen before and would that it did not happen to them. Zee'na chose a race of people known as the Flame dancers to safeguard her resting place. They were mighty warriors in the Crimson Waste, possessing a high standard of honor, they defended the elemental and in return their leader was imbued with the ability to control fire, wielding it as a weapon in battle. Ooo'ha chose the Kelry's of the north, granting their leader the same control of ice. With their guardians entrusted with their safety the two elementals slipped into a deep and seemingly endless slumber. Centuries passed.  
  
Frosta knew nothing of the fate of the Flame dancers and the elemental, Zee'na. But her people were the Kelry's and she was their leader. Only she knew the location of the slumbering Ooo'ha. It was a secret she trusted to no one and a responsibility she took very seriously. Ancient writings of her people claimed that one day the two elementals keepers would unite in love and the elements of Ice and Fire would join and help purge the world of evil. Frosta suspected that time was drawing close if it was not already upon them. She would see the fulfillment of the prophecy in her own lifetime or that of her heirs.  
  
Heirs. She Grimaced in self disgust. She would more than likely marry for convenience. She was a Stateswoman, heart and soul and blood and bone. She loved her people, her country and her home. She had never been in love, never pined for a man's touch. Her heart was like her powers, untouched. One man in her life had ever stirred her to such heights of rhapsody that she forgot her place and position. One man had ever stirred her senses beyond bliss. He-Man, a noble warrior, a true hero and an honorable gentleman. Frosta cringed mentally as she remembered her first and last brush with romantic love. She had made such a fool of herself.  
  
She threw herself at him every chance she got. He tried letting her know gently he wasn't interested but like a fool she had ignored the signals, plowing head on after what she wanted. Frosta did not use lies or deception, she didn't know how to flirt or play the romantic games that came so easily to some women. She was the ruler of a nation, a confederacy of three nations actually and twelve tribes, she was more than a queen, she was an Empress. She was direct, blunt to the point of tactless but in her position she could never afford to be misunderstood or considered as weak. She said what she thought and she meant what she said.  
  
Having never felt the feelings she experienced with He-man before she pursued him with the same relentless determination she would pursue a trade agreement or international concessions. This had seriously turned the Eternian off and eventually shamed her. As the months passed after his departure from Etheria her attraction to the warrior waned and faded, but the embarrassment her actions brought her never did.  
  
She was more reserved now than ever and no man could get close to her. She was now Thirty four years old, too near the mark past childbearing age. She had already begun grooming her two nieces, daughters of her brother, the King of Cerdia to take her place in case she never took a mate but her advisors were pressuring her more and more lately to take a mate and bear a child of her own. It had been centuries since the line of Ice empresses had been broken, Frosta's mother Frostine had been empress before her and her grandmother Chilla and her mother Glacia before her and so on down the line for seven hundred years. The heritage of her people was important to her and so she would more than likely yield to their demands.  
  
After this conflict with the Sulkies was resolved. Suddenly her nose twitched and she raised a hand to her guards stopping where she was. Her eyes scanned the horizon for signs of life. Acheon should be nearby, she should be seeing people, teams of dogs and Musk Ox but it was strangely silent. Her heartbeat quickened and her cerulean eyes darkened with dread as she noticed fat plumes of dark gray smoke rising in the distance.  
  
"Hold here." She commanded her guard.  
  
"But Empress-"  
  
"Shh." She hissed, raising a hand for silence. "Something's not right." Putting her hands down she created a spiraling road of ice which took her increasingly high until she could see over the hill in front of her. What she saw caused her to gasp in pain and anguished rage.  
  
Acheon was gone. All that remained were the charred skeletons of the towns structures. A cry of pain escaped her lips as tears welled and poured from her eyes. Without a seconds hesitation or thought to her own safety she sent the ice from her fingertips and sped toward the remains of the village. He guard let out a cry of warning and surprise before tearing off after their distraught leader, but they went unheard as Frosta's eyes drank in the sight before her.  
  
'There are no bodies!' Her thoughts screamed. She tried taking comfort from that but the blood pounding in her ears refused to let her.  
  
'Whatever happened here, her people might yet live!' She screamed inward in silent supplication for redemption. But redemption would not be found, she pushed away the solace it offered. She deserved the pain, the clutching, tight, rib squishing, air expelling hurt born of failure and despair. For she had failed. Failed her people when they trusted and believed in her. She put the hope of peace above their personal safety and this was the price for her hopeful naiveté. No more.  
  
Her guard stopped beside her. Shock holdoing their tongues immobile. One of the men, Captain Freedream bent over, scooping up some black ash in his hands then rubbing it off, his own eyes brimming with tears.  
  
"It's still hot Empress. It's still hot."  
  
"I will make them pay!" She snarled angrily. "We will make them pay!" She turned blazing wrathful eyes, full of bloodlust and guaranteeing vengeance, towards her men.  
  
  
  
"Empress?" They spoke as one. Their eyes alive with hope at the promise in her eyes.  
  
"War. We will exterminate them. Their foul taint will be driven out of the north and they will all die until our people are returned to us alive!"  
  
"What if they're dead?" One of the guards choked out.  
  
"Then for every one of us they have killed we shall kill ten of theirs." She hissed in fury.  
  
"That will be difficult for you Ice Maiden." A smirking voice from behind grated. Frosta whirled around snarling to face Irda, son of Narwa, King of the Sulkies.  
  
"Where are they nac'tung!" Frosta snarled hurling the vicious insult at her enemy, drawing her Air wand from the scabbard at her back. The wand was more than an ancient antique meant to illustrate the prestige of her line and the power of her people. It contained a large measure of Ooo'ha's essence. Irda's face flushed at being called an animal.  
  
"If you mean your people, I know not. I gave them to him." He said, smirking and pointing upward. Frosta looked up and her heart nearly stopped. A cylindrical ship cut through the cloud cover above her and she knew, though she could not see him, Hordack was there. She could sense his gloating evil through the metal hull. The fan on the wand began to madly spin and she reigned in her power, preparing to release it in a mad torrential burst of energy. Her eyes began to glow white with rage and power.  
  
"Get out of here Freedream. Take your men and deliver my command to my brother King Tundra of Cerdia and his daughter Winter. They will see that my will is carried out."  
  
"We cannot leave you Empress, we must protect you-"  
  
"Fool!" She cried. "You will hinder my efforts more than you will help! If you value my life you will go!" Captain Freedream paled at her command, noticing the tight control she held over her muscles and the tense way she clamped her jaw shut. He knew she was preparing to release a massive amount of power. He knew also she would not release it while they remained. Yet he sensed this was one fight she would not win. His heart was torn.  
  
His indecision must have shown on his face, for the wind around his Empress slowed and the white fire in her eyes disappeared as she looked into his own. What he saw broke his heart. His Empress, the woman he had served since her birth, helped raise and protect, the woman who he had sworn to defend at all costs even his life was begging him- she, who had never begged another before him, pleaded with him.  
  
"Please." She whispered softly. He could not deny her request. Tears fell from his eyes uncontrolled and he could only nod.  
  
"I will save you. Somehow Empress." She nodded and the flame returned to her eyes and the menace to her stance. Hordack suddenly materialized in front of her. Standing between her and Irda. Freedream gave a signal to his men and they boarded the snow sleds. In seconds they were gone.  
  
"Stop them! Stop them you idiots!" Cried Irda. Frosta wasted no time. In a burst of power she released the heart of winter on her enemies.  
  
Hurricane force winds slammed into the ship above her from four different directions. The force was too much at once and the ship was thrown upward and imploded. The flash of the explosion lit them all up and Frosta was blown backwards. Hordack turned his arm into a laser cannon and shot at her as she rose. She had just enough time to dive and flip out of the way, his shot narrowly missing her face and blasting into a beam supporting a building nearby. Summoning forth the power inside her again she rose from the ground surrounded by blinding Aqua light. She was not standing on the earth but floating above it. Hordack shot at her twice more, but this time his shots bounced harmlessly off her aura. Irda and his soldiers fired a rain of arrows and stun blasts at her, they felt like the tickling of ants against her flesh. But she didn't smile.  
  
Aiming her finger at Irda she muttered a word, the whisper of a name, ancient and powerful and unuttered in many a millennia.  
  
"Ooo'ha." Breathing the name of the spirit invoked her and it was all the impetus Frosta needed to drink the full depth of her magic. A rain of pointed ice spikes flew from her hand like missiles of cold death, impaling Irda's throat, killing him instantly. Several of the sulkies behind him were impaled as well, in the throat and the guts and the limbs. Hordack remained untouched. The sulkies were in a panic and Frosta thought to herself, 'I might just make it out of this'. The winds of the winter she had called up were laced with hail and icy spikes and the cold was numbing as Frosta bathed her enemies in the arctic wind. Hordack fired at her again and missed. She smiled. He must be shaken. Suddenly something heavy slammed into her from behind, crushing her to the ground. The wind puffed and died as her wand flew from her fingers. There was no pain.  
  
Frosta tried to get up, knowing her freedom- if not her very survival depended on it; but she found she couldn't move. Her fingers twitched. She heard snow crunching by her ears. She saw spots before her eyes. She cried out as her hair was grabbed from above and her face was pulled up, out of the snow. She felt something warm and moist trickling down her face, she tasted blood and felt the first tingling of panic as she gazed into Hordacks cruel and merciless eyes. He was smiling as he pulled back his arm making a fist. 'I hope the captain makes it home' she thought before he struck her. She felt a blinding flash of pain and knew nothing more.  
  
Hordack gazed down at the unconscious Woman at his feet. He felt a surge of manly appreciation at her physical form. Raising a foot he kicked her in the stomach. She didn't move. With seeming effortless ease, he picked up the massive beam pinning her to the ground and hurled it aside. Without pausing he drew out a length of silver chain with manacles on it. It seemed too delicate to hold anyone prisoner, but looks were deceiving. It was an enchanted length of silver imbued with magic and strength suppressing powers by his sorceress Shadow Weaver. He locked the larger manacle around the Empress's neck, pausing to savor the feel of her delicate flesh, so soft and fragile beneath his fingers and the warmth of her lush hair falling over his skin. Repressing a groan, with iron bound determination he released her, letting her head fall to the ground. Grasping both her wrists, he couldn't resist running his thumbs along the pulse he found there as he clamped the two smaller manacles on them. In disgust- mostly aimed at himself, he stood rather quickly. He pulled out a communicator he kept in his belt.  
  
"Mantenna." He paused. No reply. "Mantenna you moron I know you hear me." He hissed. "Respond!" There was a bleep and then some static before his imbecile-of-lackey replied.  
  
"What can I dooo for you, m-m-m-m-master?"  
  
"That stupid ice witch destroyed the Horde cruiser I was in. I need you to send me another. Immediately. I don't like to be cold."  
  
"Yeees, m-master Hordack! Right away sir!" Hordack didn't bother to reply as he pocketed the communicator. It was cold. The wind wasn't blowing very hard, but he was in the Tundra. The sulkies were no doubt long gone, the cowards. He looked down at the fallen empress. She really was a beauty, even with all that blood clotting and drying on her face. She had really surprised him with her show of power. He had never had the time to deal with the Ice Empress before so his run ins with her were limited. Quite simply she had never been worth the effort. The kingdoms in the north were too far from his sphere of influence. He took the eastern Hemisphere of etheria quite easily and the south west corner of the western half fell as well before any strong resistance came up. After the fall of Rendwoll he was at a stalemate with the Kingdom of Brightmoon as they exchanged territories several times. He had the power to take it. But he allowed Adora to take it for him when she was of age, it was her first act as Force Captain.  
  
Later after her defection he bided his time, waiting and hoping for some means of luring her back to his side. The entire North half of Etheria remained free but he perched his base of operations right on their borders. The Fright Zone was a blatant black mockery against the forces of Freedom on Etheria. Now that Adora was taking care of them Hordack found himself wanting a diversion, so he set himself the challenge of taking the Ice empress. He didn't want her kingdoms, or her land.  
  
Yet.  
  
He merely wanted to pit himself against a formidable enemy. She-ra was gone so he came here. It was rather disappointing how easily she had fallen. She came practically flying right into his arms.  
  
Damn it was cold. The sun was beginning to disappear. The wind was picking up. He looked down again at the Empress. He didn't smile; but he wanted to. He knew one way to keep warm. Bending over he hefted her into his arms, relishing the feel of her warm softness against his chest. With a shift and a shake he was able to position her so her head rested upon his shoulder beneath his chin. She was breathing deeply. Calmly. Snow began to fall. Hordack didn't care as he watched the horizon, waiting for his rescue. He reveled in the feel of her warm, moist breath against his neck. If she was awake right now she would be kicking and screaming in loathing and fear. He preferred her this way. It allowed him the illicit pleasure of memory. Memory of a time before he was who he was now. When he was somewhat. human and women came to him willingly.  
  
He was almost disappointed when the Horde Cruiser appeared and landed in front of him. The wind of the cruiser blew her hair against his nostrils and he snorted uncomfortably past the lump in his throat and the sudden sting in his eyes. She smeeled like woman; fresh, clean, inviting.  
  
Boarding the cruiser he said not a word to Mantenna as he took his captive to the back of the ship and unceremoniously dumped her into an energy cage. He would be glad to dump her on Catra at Mount Fier, in the Crimson waste. The volcano prison would also leech away the Ice maidens powers, depleting whatever reserve Weavers magic chains left behind, he was sure. 


	11. Reflections of a lost star

Chapter 11  
  
Onyx was furious.  
  
She was also exhausted. The orders had come two days ago. She was to take her honor guard and ride for Rendwoll. After the taking of Blackmoor she returned to the front, watching the siege of Brightmoon with a heavy heart. She was determined to ensure a minimum amount of casualties. The siege, however, was taking much longer than expected. While she was in Blackmoor, Queen Angella made contact with the Unicorn King. Under cover of darkness two of his people flew to the aid of Angella and her people. Water was no longer a problem for them.  
  
Secretly Onyx was glad, she knew she was the cause for much suffering, but she was convinced, in the long run, the people would respond. She was evil, vindictive, terrifying in her cruelty. She fanned the flame of rumor, feeding it lies, many she made up herself to inspire the hatred of others and provoke the masses out of their lethargy. Sadly however she could not build a reputation on rumors alone. She increasingly found herself giving orders that were as cold hearted as her comrades and she had lost the line that separated reality and the act she had assumed when joining the Horde. She no longer knew who she was she was just Onyx, now and she was very afraid that Adora might be lost forever.  
  
Everyday she saw the response her defection and reign of terror caused in the bolstering resistance. Her soldiers had to fight harder, keep keener eyes on the road both ahead and behind them. More and more of the towns she rode up to were abandoned, their people choosing to leave in the night just days before her arrival than suffer their fate at her hands. Terror and despair were the weapons she wielded with brutal efficiency. The dead were tools she utilized to her advantage- be they horde soldiers or rebels. As the body count rose and her hands stained ever redder, her faith and sense of purpose diminished.  
  
Running the siege she constantly had to keep watch for sabotage from within. With a force of eight thousand soldiers and twelve thousand robots patrolling the countryside and blockading Brightmoon Onyx did not merely rest and watch. She ruled with an iron fist and a black scowl.  
  
She was doing her damn job. Why would Hordack suddenly command her to take the most elite troops at his disposal and protect a useless village on the edge of Brightmoon's territory? The pain in her head was increasing. A young man rode to her side. She ignored him.  
  
"Commanding General, are you in distress?" He questioned, voicing a concern Onyx was unsure was genuine. She waved him off but he did not leave. They rode in silence for a few more moments before he hesitantly interrupted her pained concentration.  
  
"Mistress, we've traveled nonstop for eighteen hours. Though we know you could continue, we need a rest." He hurriedly continued in one exhalation lest she become upset at his impertinence, " we won't be much use to you bleary-eyed with exhaustion, and an assassin could slip through ou watch just from one overtired guard member, Commander."  
  
She nodded, indicating she heard him and kicked her horse into a faster gallop. She didn't want to ride alongside him.  
  
If only she could rest. She refused to have any robots in her personal guard. She chose instead twelve soldiers fresh from training in the fright Zone to aid her. She trusted none of them. They were utterly loyal to her- not to Hordack, to her. They blindly obeyed her every order with quick, cold-hearted efficiency. They would gladly give their lives for her. She was their supreme commander, the ultimate war machine. Deaths Handmaiden.  
  
But to her they were members of the horde. She didn't hate them, she didn't like them, she didn't really feel much of anything anymore. Since killing Leech she found the distinction between good and evil considerably blurred. The constant fighting was taking its toll as well. She had nightmares. Her sleep was never easy as testified by the dark rings which stood out under her eyes like black pits against her ivory skin.  
  
Worst of all, she couldn't bear to touch the sword of Protection. Every time she held it in her hands the Sorceress's warning rang vividly in her ears do not kill using the sword of protection. She was afraid to turn into She-Ra.  
  
When she held the sword in her hands she felt soiled. Dirty, like something greasy and ugly and repugnant was nesting inside her skin. She could feel the taint it carried, the malignant will, alien to the blade but there none-the-less. She carried the sword with her, wrapped in red velvet, preferring to use the green stunners to any other weapon, even the laser pistol she holstered to her thigh.  
  
There had been seven attempts on her life since the fight with Glimmer. She handled each one easily but her guard was constantly up. That level of alertness was extracting a heavy toll on her energy reserves. Her head throbbed fiercely. What could be so important in Rendwoll that couldn't wait until after the siege of Brightmoon- particularly now, at such a crucial time?  
  
Grizzlor had a massive army under him perched like ants outside the noble city. She grudgingly left him in charge in her absence. Any attack on his forces would be futile she knew; but she was uneasy. Things were very quiet. She hadn't seen or heard from Bow in two months and her only link to the rebellion were two spies she had placed in their ranks.  
  
The rebels were massing in Mystacor and they were planning something big.  
  
What, she didn't know. Being left up in the air put her on edge. What were they up to? As the pounding of the hooves and the jarring ride continued her headache became more pronounced. She decided she would take her guards advice; it was time to make camp.  
  
"Lieutenant, stop." She commanded, her voice strained and gravelly. Immediately the black guard slowed to a halt. "Have Usha set up my tent, start a fire, set up a perimeter. We camp for the night."  
  
"As you will Commander." Her lieutenant responded. Her orders were carried out quickly; gripping her saddle bags she slid off the Horde steed, moving to her tent. It was small, big enough for a cot and a small walk- space if one hunched, but it was protection from the elements and it was private. She fell on her cot, roughly tearing aside the face shield and helmet she wore, tossing them to the ground. She would have recoiled in horror if she could have seen her face. Her eyes were swollen and red, the skin beneath them puffy and black. Her skin was drawn tight against her skull. The stress of the past two months etched in every crease and shadow on her face; it told a story of fear and worry and despair. As always when she had a moment to rest, her thoughts turned inward.  
  
What were her friends doing right now? Did they all hate her as much as Glimmer? She couldn't help but grin tiredly at the thought of her former friend. Adora's defection had made the spoiled princess of Brightmoon a woman. Her resistance cell was responsible for countless acts of sabotage on the Horde army outside of Brightmoon. No one knew how she was doing it, how she managed to sneak her troops into the camps very midst undetected. One of her people had been captured long enough to give the princess the credit but just as quickly he had disappeared. No one could explain that either.  
  
Her troops defecated in the food barrels and poisoned the water supply causing massive amounts of sickness to rage unchecked through the ranks of the Horde. Fires would spontaneously burst into being in the command quarters, Onyx's personal shelter was moved twice daily in secrecy and no one but the Black Guard knew which tent was hers.  
  
A massive explosion occurred twice in the past week, when somehow, Glimmer got to the armaments. The control wires to an entire battalion of batniks were fried to hell and no one saw anything. Glimmer was not only good at what she did she was cagey as well. Another thought followed that one, a thought of him. It seemed like forever since he last held her in his arms.  
  
Why hadn't Bow at least tried to make contact? She felt angry and alone and a little betrayed- which was stupid since it was she who was the betrayer. She reached down under her cot, pulling out the velvet wrapped sword hidden there. Tenderly she unwrapped it, gazing lovingly at the beautiful polished steel, the jewel in the center which shimmered a gentle pink one moment and a calming blue the next arrested her eye, easing the tempest in her heart. Gazing at the sword that had been hers for seven years soothed her headache and eased her tension.  
  
Until she touched it.  
  
Her arm trembling, she ran a finger down the length of the chill metal, flinching at the turmoil it created in the hidden darkness behind her clenched eyes. Grasping the hilt in a straining palm she hugged the blade to her breast. Immediately tears filled her eyes, overflowing to spill unchecked down her cheeks. She wept in silence- they were out there. Listening. They couldn't know.  
  
Her arm began to spasm as she fought the urge to thrust the blade away. It was a struggle to hold it so near and tight. She felt violated. It felt as if inside her head she was being tainted. A cold, wet, greasy oozing miasma was infiltrating her entire body, climbing and burrowing like worms into her heart, leeching her soul, knowing her every inner wish and thought and making her unclean.  
  
With a gasp, as she choked back a broken sob, she thrust the sword from her, dropping it to the ground and gasping for breath. It had been the same since she used it to kill. How could something that was such a part of her entire being be so repulsive? That sword defined who she was. That sword was her one link to the past and her family and her freedom and she couldn't bear to touch it. Would she ever be She-Ra again?  
  
Gently, with trembling hands, she wrapped the blade back in its velvet wrap and held it tight against her as she fell into a black and mindless slumber. Pale stains from salty tears and travel dust painted her face, her hair framing it in a golden halo, she appeared as a fallen angel. Adora, Commanding General Onyx was fast losing the one thing that had sustained her thus far. Her faith in the people and her hope in the future.  
  
  
  
Glimmer watched grimly through a telescope from a craggy mountaintop as Onyx took her guard and stole away into the night. For weeks they had put off the inevitable fight for Brightmoon's borders. Both her and Ahgo were anxiously awaiting backup from Mystacor. With Adora leaving the battlefield Glimmer was itching to strike. She resolved, then and there, they would wait no longer.  
  
"Gurr," she barked at her second in command, a large hulking brown mat of fur and muscle, "send for your king, tell him to meet me in the war room. At dawn we will attack. One way or another by this time tomorrow we will have embraced our destiny." The large, muscular troll bowed to her before ambling off with his heavy and awkward gait. Glimmer lifted the glass to her eyes again making sure Onyx did not double back. Her eyes were glued to the road long hours after the vision of terror clad in midnight disappeared.  
  
_______________________________  
  
The room was rectangular in shape, with huge vaulted ceilings. The architecture was cleverly hidden by stalactites placed at strategic intervals. Trolls had a way with stone, they could feel the heartbeat in the rock. Ahgo claimed it was because trolls and the rock were kin. Trolls were born from the stones of the deepest roots of the mountains of Spikeheart. They revered the land and cherished all of her creatures. The stone they were birthed from was also their sustenance, though in times of crisis or to interact with other species they could eat human food. In the great hall Glimmer lead the meeting which would prepare the people of Spikeheart and the contingent of fighters Glimmer commanded.  
  
Two hundred trolls would follow her into battle as well as six hundred men from the disbanded rebel camp of the Whispering woods.  
  
"For the past two months we have put off reclaiming the kingdom of Brightmoon." Glimmer began, her face a hard mask of resolve. "I've heard excuses such as 'Onyx is too strong', 'her guard too well trained', 'with her here, morale is too high.' Well Onyx is gone. She left this afternoon. At dawn we attack. No more will we sneak around using the underground tunnels to rise up in their camp only to poison their food and their drink. Yes, they've lost many men that way, but not enough. Tomorrow they lose them all."  
  
"At dawn the trolls will approach Grizzlors army from the east." Glimmer was gesturing to a rough map she had made from some colored stones and mounds of dirt. "Make a LOT of noise. They will send the robots to the front leaving the live soldiers hiding behind them, toward the center of the camp. As the trolls march toward the army- slowly- but with great show and wrath, my army will use the tunnels to come out behind the enemy. We will lay waste to the living in that camp. They will not see us coming. By evening Brightmoon will be free!" A collective cheer rose from the ranks and Glimmer felt herself flush with a heady rush of power. To have such an army at her disposal made her feel strong.  
  
"Remember we kill only if necessary. We are Not the Horde! Take prisoners if you can. For Brightmoon!" She cried. The cheer was echoed as Ahgo walked heavily to her side, taking her hand in his own.  
  
"For Etheria!" He bellowed. The din grew louder. The new day would bring a change of that She was sure. 


	12. Mission to Meadowlands

Chapter 12; Mission in the Meadowlands  
  
  
  
After docking Spinnerella and her companions shouldered backpacks full of provisions and began the swift trek through the Meadowlands towards the Emerald wood at the southern end of the continent. They were dropped off in Untakki, south of the Ugauan swamplands. There were no towns on this side of the mountains, most of the human settlements were on the other side in the Horde controlled provinces where Ehteria's grains were mass produced. The Ugauans ruled the land which they traversed, the fields and streams and marshes stretching from the swamps to the enchanted borders of the Emerald Wood which were controlled by the Ondi-amites. The Majestic peaks of the Lure Mountain range rose to the North of them, spires of gray and lavender rock reaching like lustrous fingers to the heavens, causing a breath to catch in her throat. Spinnerella knew, from discussions on the sailing vessel with her friends, the Star sisters, their home city of Celestia was hidden among the purple peaks.  
  
The Star sisters, as she knew them, were a trio of women sent from a city of stargazers to take part in the movement of the world to free itself from the clutches of the evil Horde. They were the daughters of King Astron, though they met their father in person only once and they were their peoples contribution to freedom. Their people lived in hidden seclusion studying the heavens and the positions of the stars.  
  
There were three castes in Celestia, the warrior caste, lowest in the system though not degraded in any way- they prepared the city for defense against invasion, protecting the citizens and engaging in wargames within the coliseum. Their sole purpose in life was to train to become the greatest of hand-to-hand combatants. This was not difficult for them with the help of the Star stone, a sacred and mysterious artifact which imbued them all with unique powers upon completion of their training.  
  
According to Jewel, her sister, the fiery-haired Tallstar- they called her Tallis- was trained within that caste. When her training was completed there was some kind of obscure esoteric ritual performed; Tallis was forbidden to speak of it; but when it was over she gained the ability to stretch and bend and distort her body in ways defying logic. Talis had a personality as fierce as her hairs flaming hue, quick to anger and just as quick to laugh, she took her job as protector seriously. Her brown eyes would flame amber sparks at the mere hint of danger towards her sisters.  
  
The second tier of the caste system involved the Ambassadors and the intellectually elite. Their specialty was negotiation and strategic thinking. This was the caste the society built itself on, with shrewd merchants in varying trades; they bargained for the sheer intellectual stimulation and not for any material reward. Jewelstar was of that caste, like her father and king. She could fight well and her armor had the unique ability to emit a flash of blinding radiance which would temporarily blind her enemies but her best ability was her mind. She quietly believed that Adora's betrayal would rouse the people of Etheria to a furious pitch of wrath and swell the ranks of the rebellion with supporters. However Spinnerella was still bitter about Adora's defection and would not tolerate any discussion of her former commander. Jewel was possessed of a quiet dignity and gentle nobility. She was eloquent in speaking her mind and a natural peacemaker.  
  
Starla was quiet. A somewhat nondescript form next to her sparkling sisters she had a dreamy expression and was constantly watching the heavens. Jewelstar informed her, that was because her rather reserved sister was a member of the most elite caste in the kingdom. She was a revered stargazer. Trained to read the heavens and thereby predict great events in the future. She was agile and quick and had a strong grasp on self defense but her most powerful ability came from the star at her chest. It could invoke a burst of sparkling mist, dulling the mind and sometimes inducing slumber on the subject of attack. She also had an uncanny sixth sense. It was unnerving the way she seemed to know things. Jewel claimed it was because her youngest sibling walked on a plane higher than the rest of them.  
  
Spinnerella was told that in battle the women would follow her lead but before they were teamed with her they bent to the whims of Tallis. When facing an unfamiliar people they followed Jewel but both of the two seemed to seek the assent of the reserved Starla before taking any action.  
  
Apparantly the seers of Celestia knew the time was ripe for hero's to combine forces and take back the world of Etheria. They knew as well that freedom must be fought for to be appreciated and so when their king ascended the throne it was decreed that his children would all become Celestia's gift to the world. His wife proved fertile and gave birth to three daughters in the first five years of his reign. A child to be represented by each caste. The leaders of the castes were formed by trios of elders, the most powerful in each of their fields. They were given the children to instruct in the ways of their people. When the girls reached maturity they were brought before their father. It was their first meeting with him and with each other. A bond was formed instantly between the three women as they were told the hopes of the kingdom rested on them and they were banished from their homeland until Etheria was freed from the tyrannical grip of the Horde.  
  
With only each other to depend on the trio became a family. Spinnerella admired the easy camaraderie between the three but often felt herself an interloper, she found herself missing her own sister, Netossa more and more.  
  
Spinnerella and Netossa originally came from a neighboring star system. They were entertainers. They came to this little planet hoping to take a vacation from the Galactic Horde Empire and perfect their skills- She was a master Dancer and Netossa was a magician- not a user of real magic but a mistress of slight of hand, she was also a contortionist. When they arrived in Mystacor they went their separate ways looking for work, meeting up again a month later through a bizarre set of circumstances in which she was convinced by Hordack that the rebellion had taken her sister captive.  
  
After meeting the charismatic leader Adora, Spinnerella felt something stir inside her she had never felt before, a passion to be free. When she spoke to Netossa her sister agreed to stay with her and help the rebellion. They never regretted it. Now it was up to her to convince the people of the Meadowlands to open their eyes and hearts and take up arms against the Horde oppressors.  
  
She would start with the Ondi'amites, the wood elves of the Meadowlands. Bow assured them the elves were not hostile to humans merely isolated. With the magics of their people protecting their forest home they felt no need to involve themselves in the Horde occupation on either side. It was up to her and Jewelstar to change it. As they crossed the Growling sea, sailing past the peninsula of Horror hall, realm of Shadow Weaver and the steep southern cliffs of the Meadowlands and the Emerald wood Spinnerella developed a great respect for Jewelstar and decided to allow her to handle any negotiations. Spinnerella had only been made leader of the party because of her powerful attack skills but in the end she was just a dancer. She was not so proud as to leave the skills of one of her teammates unacknowledged.  
  
"We're not alone." Starla spoke, startling Spinnerella from her reverie.  
  
"What?" She asked looking around her in concern, "I see no one?"  
  
"But I smell them!" Growled Tallis. "ready yourselves my sisters, parasites!!" This last word was hissed with extreme venom. The three sisters met, back to back. Starla had her staff whirling, the loop in the end whistling eerily as the air shot around it like the voice of a disembodied spirit. Jewel was crouched in a ready to spring position and the colors of her armor began to move in a rapid succession of metallic hues. Tallis had her hands balled in tight fists, her knuckles adorned with spiked rings shining like sapphire glass in the sun.  
  
Then she saw them and understood Tallis' disgust.  
  
Ugauans.  
  
Spinnerella's lip curled in distaste. Like Leech they were wrinkled and blue with fanged orifices issuing slurping noises and slobber. Two were wielding tridents but the rest appeared ready for hand to hand. They wore brown loincloths and all appeared to be male. All appeared to be hostile and all appeared ready to kill. Then a tall muscular leech, his body adorned with several crimson tattoos, his back straighter than the rest and his bearing oozing confidence stepped toward the women.  
  
  
  
Grimward couldn't believe his luck. His party was out hunting for food on the borders of Ondi-amite territory and returning empty handed when he saw them. Women. Four of them and all of them beautiful. His warriors would be pleased at the pleasure they would bring them and his people would be happy at the sustenance they would provide. The one who peaked his appetites was a beauty- no doubt. Tall and lithe and bouncy. Her form was barely concealed from his hungry eyes in diaphanous strips of material that only heightened her allure and her bountiful breasts practically begged to spill their fertile plumage to his rapacious gaze from the corset of carnation satin which contained them. She had full curling pink tresses which caressed her skin with teasing abandon. He wanted her.  
  
The others were striking as well- except for the small blonde one. Her breasts were rather small and her body rather gangly but she would make a good meal. The other two seemed to sense his coming for while the scrawny one seemed lost in thought the other two immediately went into defensive postures as soon as he gave the signal to advance.  
  
The redhead with the stubborn chin scanned the grasses around the road with an Eagles sharp-eyed-intensity, clenching her jaw together so tight it accentuated her high cheekbones. He could smell her bodies response and it inflamed him. She was not afraid, she was excited. Here then was a warrior, aching for battle. He immediately lost interest in the pink haired woman, here was a female to offer him challenge, sating his appetite for violence as well as his lust. The Silver haired woman was similarly stanced but he smelled fear on her and dismissed her as a threat.  
  
He stood, straightening to his full height, allowing the females to stare at the evidence of his masculine superiority and cower. When they didn't, he smiled ferally. This would be fun! In two strides he stood before the red head.  
  
"I am Grimward, of the Kulketnich clan. Yield and we kill you quick." He grunted with no intention of keeping his word.  
  
"Be gone hell spawn- back to the muck you crawled from. You don't want this." The fiery warrior drawled. Her words warned him off but her sparkling amber eyes shot sparks of challenge, begging him to stay. He deliberately let his eyes caress her body.  
  
"You wrong. Grimward want all." He moved to advance and was suddenly blinded. He heard a high pitched gurgling scream, unaware it was his own. He still wore a puzzled look on his face as he died.  
  
The second the fool reached for her sister Jewelstar emitted an enraged bellow and blinding white light flashed from her armor. When Tallstar opened her eyes and saw the confused gaze of the beast before her she grunted, slamming her spiked fist deep into his belly. He screamed in agony and she smiled grimly as she pulled her arm free of his carcass by pushing his body away with a dainty pink boot. She hated it when their innards stuck to her arms. Spinnerella opened her eyes after counting to five and immediately went into a whirl wind attack, raising her arms she spun in a blurry pirouette, repeatedly murmuring words to herself in an ancient language she didn't even understand, merely repeated by rote as she was taught and thus the air picked up speed around her. She felt nothing but the dance flowing from her body, the heat of the words in her blood, spinning so fast the surrounding landscape moved with the wind of her motion. With frenetic leaps within the spin she moved at a blinding speed, effortlessly picking up and hurling nine of the blue skinned warriors from her vicinity. She didn't see their bodies flung like dolls through the air, one landing at an odd angle as his neck snapped and several slamming into trees breaking their spines like twigs. One was hurled with such force that he completely splintered the tree he hit, a huge length of wood impaled him as he landed.  
  
One of the Ugauans, an ugly snarl of fury painting a grotesque mural of hatred on his face rushed at Starla who was twirling her staff at a furious rate. When he lunged she bent, flowing like water out of the way- with a sharp twist of her hips and bend at the knees, the animal found himself groping air and then he felt a sharp pain in his skull and knew only darkness. Starla slammed her staff into the cranium of the hideous beast, inwardly cringing at the thunk of wood on bone before stepping away from him.  
  
The remaining parasites ran in terror from the women they had thought easy prey.  
  
"We are alone again." Starla said in her dreamy way.  
  
"Shall we continue?" Jewel asked looking to Spinnerella.  
  
"Yes. We are done here." Spinnerella looked around her, her face a mask of sorrow. She was sorry to cause such harm to any living being. She would have preferred to be left alone but once they threatened her friends and her own safety, the well being of her attackers was secondary to the safety of her and the Star sisters.  
  
She hadn't much experience in combat with living entities, most of her conflicts had always been with robots. But Adora had often spoken with her at length about the necessity of death in a war. 'show mercy when you can but remember, to pity the guilty is to betray those you protect' . She now knew what she meant. The four women continued on their journey toward the Emerald wood and the home of the Ondi'amites. As Spinnerella wondered about her sister and the fate of the rebellion in Brightmoon she was unaware that at that very moment Castaspella was become a hero and hope to the people of Shaddamite, the island west of the agrarian continent of Untakki. If she had known she would have felt a new stirring of hope as well but all she could feel now was a sad stirring of regret for the lives lost at her hands this day. 


	13. Magnamite Prison

Chapter 14 Magmanite prison.  
  
Frosta awoke disoriented. She tried moving and found she could not lower her arms. It was a struggle to open her eyes. When she did she began whimpering softly. She was blind! She could not see! What had happened to her! Where was she! There was not the barest hint of light. Her skin became clammy. Her breath began accelerating. She couldn't stop herself from gasping in short, panicked bursts.  
  
"Helll.." she rasped, "he..help." Her voice grew stronger and she cursed herself for the fear she heard trembling in its wobbly, unsure tones. "Help me. Please!" Suddenly she saw a light, she sighed shakily in relief, unmindful of the tears falling down her cheeks with the realization she was not blind, merely in the dark. The light grew closer. Then it was before her. A ball of flame that grew increasingly large before coalescing into the form of Shadow Weaver.  
  
"Ohh, pretty little empress, are you frightened, child?" Frosta gulped, her mind screaming in fear and revulsion as the evil emanated in waves off the woman. None of her concern was reflected in her voice as she then lied through a tongue thick with fear.  
  
"No. Where am I? Why can't I move my arms?" Twisting her body she added, "or my legs?" Shadow Weaver emitted a cold, hissing chuckle raising goosebumps on Frosta's warm skin.  
  
"You are in the only place on Etheria that could restrain the powers of a snow witch like yourself. You are in a Horde Prison in the depths of the volcanic Mt. Fier. Magmanite prison. I have chained you in manacles enchanted to absorb the powers of winter in your body and pass it on to the volcano. No icy trick will free you from your prison empress. Only fire can free you now and flame is one thing which you can not control." Shadow Weaver laughed again, a harsh menacing sound filled with mean delight.  
  
"So are you my jailer then? What's the matter, did Hordak tire of your failures after his pet general returned to him?" Shadow Weaver reached out with a bony hand scratching Frosta's face with her black claws, leaving three red streaks on her white face. Frosta grimaced in pain but otherwise showed no reaction.  
  
"Foolish child. I am too valuable to be made babysitter, even for the likes of you. Hordack has another in mind to watch his frozen trophy. I am merely here awaiting her arrival and enchanting your chains for you. I must admit it was quite a puzzle figuring out how to attune the manacles to the same frequency as your magic. At first I believed your powers were a part of you, of your people but as soon as I touched you I knew you were a normal human. Then I thought the powers came from the wind wand you employ in battle but that's just a piece of the power you carry. Tell me empress, are you alone here, or is there someoine inside you, with you, at this very moment?"  
  
"How long have I been here?" Frosta questioned, ignoring her captors inquiry. Shadow weaver floated backward. Taking any light with her.  
  
"It doesn't matter. Answer the question."  
  
"You first shadow witch!" Shadow Weaver gazed at the mutinous ice queen for a few moments before she hissed in disgust.  
  
"It matters not. The power you weild is alive. With my magics on your manacles you will not leave this volcano." She faded back into the shadows. Frosta couldn't stop a small whimper from escaping. In desperation she cried out to the retreating witch.  
  
"At least leave me a light!" She could have sworn she heard an evil snicker. She was alone again in the dark. She hated the dark. It was irrational, she knew, but she feared it nonetheless. The minutes ticked by slowly. Frosta could feel her control slipping. She was going to embarrass herself. It has always been thus in thedark. Always before, with the power of the elemental Ooo-ha she was able to maintain a small, blue light in the darkest places. A harsh sob broke the silence. She tried stiflinh it, but it escaped her. Perspiration broke out over her forehead and on her neck to trickle down her back. Her breath came in short sharp rasps which she tried changing to deep calm gusts but each time she tried regaining control another sob or whimper or moan would break out of her. It wasn't very long before the screams came. It was more of a blessing than anything else when they did because once they started she knew nothing more beyond the sound in her ears and the darkness before her eyes. 


	14. Double Troubles infiltration and Brghtmo...

Chapter 15 Liberation of Brightmoon  
  
DT made her way stealthily, into the Horde camp surrounding Brightmoon. The security was laughable. Grizzlor and Colonel Black were in charge and they seemed to fear no attack. She learned, weeks ago, the spoiled little Princess Glimmer of Brightmoon had attempted to free her homeland from the siege when Onyx was away at Blackmoor and she was quickly crushed. Leading a small force of three thousand against their vastly superior forces she stood no chance, serving as little more than a light distraction, they even captured her and were going to send her to Hordak but she disappeared under their very noses and had been a thorn in their sides ever since.  
  
While Glimmer's forces distracted the horde some unicorns used the battle and the cover of night to sneak into Brightmoon and aid the people by purifying their water source and changing the pure water to medicines needed when disease inevitably broke out among the citizenry. Thus the reason the siege was taking so long.  
  
DT knew if Glimmer was able to get into the camp unseen- even when General Onyx was around, she had to have a secret way, probably there were underground tunnels she used or maybe some kind of teleportation magic. DT wasn't sure where Peekablu was, but she knew in order to get close to the seeress she would have to earn the trust of the leaders of the Rebellion and since Brightmoon was the closest place to a rebellion cell DT decided to start there.  
  
She made her way unchallenged to the command tents. Here and there she found robots stationed as guards. She was careful to stay clear of their line of sight. Once again her armor came in useful as it disguised her body heat from their infrared vision. At the base of each tent she placed a small flash bomb. It would create a large heat flash but do little damage, it was the fire they would start on the canvas that might prove disastrous. DT smiled in the darkness.  
  
Too bad for the horde, she thought, heading for the next tent.  
  
She placed twelve flash bombs in a circular pattern before deciding to retreat from the area. She needed someplace conspicuous to be seen in case Glimmer or one of her spies were nearby. If not she needed as many horde troops as possible to witness her confrontation with horde authority so they could spread the tale of her heroism across the camp and eventually to the ear of a rebel spy. Ah! A cluster of boulders by the singing river- she could stand up there.  
  
She ran, uncaring if she was seen now. There was a shout. Someone fired a laser blast at her, it struck her in the back but she felt nothing beyond a small tingling of energy shooting through her body. She climbed up the rocks, smiling, then turned to the camp, aiming the controller she held she pushed the button. Hell broke loose with a fiery vengeance and DT couldn't contain she small shiver of pleasure the sight of roaring flames gave her. It was an excitement of an almost sexual nature.  
  
BOOOM! BOOOM! BOOOM! BOOOM!  
  
One after another the explosions went off. All the attention she aimed at her was diverted to the golden starburst of hungry flames and brilliant light pulses going off near the command tents. The troopers gazed in flabbergasted disbelief at the fires and blinding lights emitting from all around them. Several small fires erupted and troopers began working together to put them out. A large hairy form with huge muscles came barreling out of one of the tents screaming, his fur seemed to be on fire and the fool ran, fanning the flames before shooting out of the perimeter of the camp and diving into the river. DT laughed loudly, her face flushed with excitement as Grizzlor stood from the river, his fur hanging like a clump of hair from a clogged drain on his sopping form.  
  
"Who's responsible for this!" He roared, water dripping off his nose and his downy chin.  
  
"That would be me, your fluffyness." All attention turned to her. She could have sworn the animal-like gaze of the Horde commander tripled in size. She read her death in his black gaze and for a second questioned her wisdom in antagonizing the mutant beast.  
  
"Sieze her!" His Snarling voice cried. Her confidence returned as she basked in the fury in his voice. Only one thing gave her as much pleasure as fire. That was pissing people off and then kicking their ass.  
  
"Ah, ah, you didn't think I'd make it easy for you did you?" she pulled out a a small cylinder, holding it before her, one arm raised behind her as she assumed a fighting stance. "Ok, ready now."  
  
Three troopers charged her, one on either side, and one from the front. As the two on either side of her reached her she squeezed the cylinder. Both ends exploded in four feet of metal pipe sharpened to a razor point on either end, slamming through their metallic bodies with faultless ease. They ceased functioning immediately. She couldn't shake them off before the one in front of her reached her so she slammed her foot into the soldiers stomach. There was the sound of an explosion as the trooper went soaring twelve feet through the air, her boot smoking from the discharge of her percussion sole. Pushing aside the two defunct robots she charged through the mass of troopers to her left, screaming wildly as she did so. Her arms shook with effort as she slammed the stave she wielded with such efficiency into one metal hulk after another. Laser blasts all around her shot over and into her. The material of her armor absorbed the energy, transmuting it into stamina for her to use. She was on a energy high now!  
  
"For Freedom!" She screamed for the ear of any listener. With her new strength she spun her staff around her with a warriors skill and speed. Bodies slammed into it repeatedly but she never slowed as sweat poured from her brow and down her neck, trickling between her breasts. Her blows were more powerful now, she easily smashed the heads of several robots as they attacked her at once. One managed to break past the spinning weapon she weilded to reach for her face. Thrusting her palm upright into his chest she shoved. There was another loud boom as another percussion pad, this one designed for her hands sent the hunk of metal flying. He landed among the shrapnel of several of his hapless companions. Leaping into the air she landed behind several of her opponants and pulling up and back with her staff she spun in a graceful dance of death, knocking them to the ground, with a bend at the wrist and a swift rowing motion she sliced the row of fallen robots in two. She was just about to charge again when something snatched her by the hair, slamming her backward, before she could rise, a huge hairy ham fist smashed into the side of her head.  
  
Grizzlor watched the cocky bitch as she took down one trooper after the other. She seemed to absorb the energy bolts shot at her and was only getting stronger. He was enraged at being made a fool of! There was no way in all the seven hells he was going to allow this woman to get away from him! He studied her movements as she fought. She was quick and she was good, slamming his robots into each other, sending their tin heads flying from their metallic shoulders with ease. She crushed the metal with her staff like they were made of sponge. She presented her back to him and he grinned wolfishly. Stupid woman! He stepped forward, grabbing her long yellow hair, he wrapped it around his fist and yanked. She fell at his feet and raising a huge hairy fist he finished her off with one good blow.  
  
Now standing over her he watched the whole left side of her face rapidly discolor and smiled in satisfaction. He kicked her in the stomach and she flew five feet forward. He was just about to go after her when something solid thunked into his skull. He turned, furious, to investigate the source, but saw nothing. When he turned back what he saw caused him to roar with rage. Princess Glimmer was kneeling beside the fallen woman. She leaned over her, lifting her head with a healers tenderness and hugging her tightly, with a flash of light, disappeared. Grizzlor roared in rage. Storming over to his troopers he began tearing them apart. They fled from him in terror but he was too swift and there was too large a selection, he picked up one trooper who wasn't fast enough and tore off its head with his teeth. He caught another in his other hand and squeezed its head into a clump of metal, uncaring at the small jets of flame and sparks shot from the robotic wiring. He would have probably continued in his wild tantrum for some time if Colonel Black hadn't appeared and shot him in the knees with the laser pistols he kept on his own.  
  
"Stupid beast!" Commander Black growled, disdainfully. Grizzlor howled his fury. "Let the rebels destroy our troops, not you. What the hell is your problem?" The haggard faced commander questioned, rubbing his head, his eyes wide and bloodshot from the previous evenings entertainment.  
  
"While you were off nursing your hangover a rebel broke into the camp and set fire to the command tents and ME! Then that brat Glimmer appeared just as I was about to finish her off and teleported her out of here!"  
  
"And that's your excuse for this," his upper lip curled in disgust, "this mayhem?"  
  
"How about I set your ass on fire and see how you like it!" Grizzlor growled, standing. Colonel black tossed back his helmeted head and laughed, a loud, high pitched, annoying sound.  
  
"You shaggy walking carpet, I would have paid money to see that, if I hadn't lost it all at the tables last night."  
  
"Well, you can explain to Commanding General Onyx why the camp is in ruins." Grizzlor snarled. Commander Blacks eyes widened.  
  
"Oh no, I'm not getting the blame for this. I wasn't even here-"  
  
"Exactly!"  
  
"Sirs-"  
  
"You miserable throw rug, I'm not jeopardizing my career-"  
  
"Your career is over!"  
  
"Sirs-"  
  
"Like hell-"  
  
"Sirs!" A trooper bellowed. With a growl Grizzlor swung around, smashing his fist into the troopers head, flattening it and sending the robot to the ground in a heap of metal.  
  
"You disgust me." Black sneered. Suddenly he noticed a swarm of troops running toward the front of the camps perimeter.  
  
"What's going on?" He muttered.  
  
"How the hell should I know?" Grizzlor snapped.  
  
"Buffoon! That trooper had news for us!" Black strode angrily in the direction the troops were heading. "You there, halt. Report." He commanded a soldier in horde uniform. It was a human, breathless, not some brainless robot.  
  
"Trolls, sir! They're coming over the rise, hundreds of them!"  
  
"What!" The colonels eyes widened in horror. His career really would be over if he lost this siege. "Send all the robots to the front. Let them operate as targets. The rest of us can use them as shelter and take out the trolls at our leisure from a safe distance."  
  
"Already done sir." The soldier responded, saluting smartly.  
  
"Then what are you waiting for you idiot! Assume your position!"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Black felt his stomach start churning. He was going to be ill. The ground beneath his feet started to tremble and shake It was all the impetus he needed as the contents of his stomach exploded from his mouth and nose. He continued to retch long after his stomach was emptied. His head was thrumming 'Boom, boom, boom, boom!'  
  
When he looked up he couldn't understand what he was seeing. The trolls were attacking the robots just as he had thought but there was commotion among the troops. People were leaving their posts. They were firing into the ranks.  
  
What the hell?  
  
He stood, weaving unsteadily, on his feet. His pistols were activated, one on either shoulder, two in his hands, two at his waist and two on his knees. Rebels! Rebels in his camp. They must have appeared out of nowhere. He began swearing softly and firing at once. Beams of flashing lavender light was emitting from the river side. Glimmer!  
  
Glimmer fired the stun cannon until it was empty of charges and then she fell back on focused beams of light energy. Prior to the battle she had expended a great deal of power and energy to teleport the female rebel who had been wounded. She shouldn't have done it but she was so selfless and brave, Glimmer felt she had no choice but to save her. It was too close to the full moon, her powers were minimal and she weakened easily. Teleportation took a lot more energy than beams of light, especially for more than one person. Nonetheless she sustained the furious barrage of light.  
  
At first, when her people attacked she was ecstatic to be doing something. They took the horde by surprise, this was nothing like the ill fated battle just three weeks prior. She was prepared and the trolls were with her. But as the hours passed and the fighting showed no signs of slowing she began to be afraid. The horde should be wearying by now, when would commander Black or Grizzlor sound the clarion call to retreat? Glimmer was getting desperate. She was exhausted and the troops kept coming. She closed her eyes, found her center and blinked to Ahgo's side. Ahgo nearly took her head off with one blow of his humongous battle-mace.  
  
"Glimmer! Don't do that gel, I almost killed you."  
  
"Sorry, what's going on Ahgo, they should be weakening by now!" She knew her voice sounded desperate.  
  
Ahgo slammed his mace into a line of troopers sending them flying, a pile of shrapnel.  
  
"There is a long time yet before we are through. The number of our enemies is overwhelming. Still, we will fight to the end."  
  
"What!" Glimmer gasped. "You mean there is no hope."  
  
Ahgo turned his gaze to hers. "There's always hope fair Glimmer even in the darkest moment- hang on to me gel they're gonna charge me."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Do it! Now!" Glimmer threw herself at Ahgo's massive chest just in time. He emitted a humongous bellow and a whirling wind swooped like a serpent from the sky swallowing the line of troopers charging him. Thirty two armed troops disappeared into thin air, swallowed by a force Glimmer scarcely recognized. Ahgo slumped slightly and Glimmer shot her luminescent eyes upward, he appeared to be resting, his masculine warrior scent permeated her being as he leaned on her for a moment.  
  
"Ahgo- are you okay?"  
  
"Just need a moment." He groaned softly before straightening slowly. Glimmer stepped away from him, blushing at their closeness when suddenly her eyes were drawn over his shoulder; an axe blade was hurled through the air heading straight at him.  
  
"No!" She cried, concentrating fiercely; she erected a purple shield at his back. The axe gave a metallic twing before bouncing harmlessly to the ground. Ahgo turned to stare at the axe and a huge smile split his ugly maw.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"I got your back." Glimmer said quickly, then she ejected a series of lavender orbs hurling them at the troopers. Wherever they landed they exploded and sent people and debris flying.  
  
"Aye, I believe you do." Ahgo said gazing at her appreciatively. She seemed immersed in concentration. She was so beautiful. Ahgo cursed silently to himself yet again. How could he have been so foolish as to fall in love with a human. Especially one as lovely as Glimmer of Brightmoon. He held no illusions that she could ever feel the same as him, yet he cherished the moments they spent together, discussing strategy and the war. And instances where he could touch her were far too few. He could have easily controlled his magic when his wind tore into those troopers, but with her unexpected appearance at his side some selfish and insane part of him contrived a way to hold her sweet body close to him. It was the sweetest bliss and the most excruciating of tortures. Ahgo was enthralled by the passionate princesses fiery nature and vibrant outbursts, she was headstrong and stubborn and intelligent. A worthy mate for the king of trolls. Too bad she was human. It was no secret her kind found his race hideous to look upon.  
  
As more and more of their people fell back hope dimmed in Ahgo's heart. The sheer numbers of the horde force was forcing his troops into a holding pattern, even troll magic was not enough to beat them back. He would probably die here on this battlefield. As he swung his mace again he sent a bolt of thunder from its top. The percussion sent dirt spewing upward and enemies flying as well.  
  
"Glimmer, if aught goes amiss I would have ye know- well, I am glad to have known ye." He spoke without looking at her, afraid she would see his heart in his eyes. He couldn't bear to see the look of disgust his love would engender on her fair features. Glimmer looked at the Troll king with horror.  
  
"Ahgo!" She shouted. He wouldn't look at her. "Ahgo We are not going to die here. I will not allow it!" She was furious. Ahgo couldn't help but smile. The smile faded quickly as he saw a battalion of Horde flyers heading there way.  
  
"Alas, fair princess of Brightmoon, I fear you have no say over destiny." He pointed to the flyers knowing even as he fell he was glad to be dying at the side of the woman he loved.  
  
"Destiny be damned!" Glimmer cried. Squeezing her eyes shut she teleported to the center of the Horde army where they were most concentrated. Spreading her arms and breathing hard she gave this light explosion everything she had. With a roar torn from the deepest part of her fury she blasted a huge crater in the center of horde forces. Flesh and metal melted in the furnace, the screams of the dying were nightmarish but Glimmer heard nothing as the last of her power- more than she had ever expended before in her life- faded, and she collapsed to the ground.  
  
"For Glimmer!" Ahgo cried, tears streaming down his craggy features. He barreled toward his doom with no regret in his heart except that Glimmer was not at his side. He had witnessed the bright explosion, the heat had singed his skin but annihilated the troops around him. He knew the level of control such magic took. He also knew Glimmer was not that strong. Only the deepest of desperations could call forth such powerful and precise magics from Glimmers frail human body and not without cost. He feared his fair warrior maid had fallen. No regrets then. With a bellow he leapt into battle. 


	15. Bargain and Revelation

Chapter13 Bargain and revelation  
  
Netossa rubbed her eyebrows in weary frustration. The bickering between the two men before her accomplished nothing but to delay the aid Brightmoon desperately needed. Peekablu sat at the table with two of her people at her side. The seeress was now completely blind. It had been hard for her to accept at first. She was so used to being alone. She didn't tell anyone about her condition until it was discovered by one of her people. Peekablu was quiet and shy but she was stubborn too and fiercely independent. She hated having to rely on others to help her get around. But such was the price she paid to undergo the transformation. She was now the holy woman for her people and her race was united as one under the banner of the rebellion. Before her ascension to holy leader, Peeka's people were a dispirited race preferring to remain out of the eye of the world at large. They never before believed they would ever regain their city, their tower or their heritage again. After Hordak destroyed their former leader twenty years ago, sacked their city and enslaved many of their people they had become a race of wandering nomads. But with Peekablu's new abilities word spread quickly among her feathered relatives and relations and now Netossa estimated the rebellion in Mystacor consisted of fifty thousand troops who answered to the seeress' call alone. They yielded to her, more out of courtesy than any loyalty.  
  
They agreed to aid the rebellion if after they freed Brightmoon, all the focus would go into redeeming their city and the Ivory citadel from the hands of the horde. Every member of Peekablu's race had the ability to see ahead or around or through objects at varying distances or degrees of accuracy. There numbers alone were reason enough to acquiesce. Bow raised his voice, again in anger, slamming his fist onto the table to emphasize his point and Netossa flinched.  
  
"Adora is not evil! She is just a confused woman and she needs our understanding more than our blind hatred. You are a fool if you think a herd of horses will change our minds about her redemption."  
  
"And you are an ignorant farmer without an ounce of sense if you believe I will allow her to live after killing my father!" Prince Adonai Dusk retorted hotly.  
  
"The rebellion will not sit by and let you murder our former leader!" Bow snapped.  
  
"I don't care how many people I have to go through to get to her but kill her I will- and you! If I have to!" Adonai hissed, spittle flying from his angry mouth to spray across Bow's rugged visage. He then turned a hostile eye to the woman he had come to for aid and asylum. "Lady, before my father died defending his country from the abomination whom your man here so hotly defends, he bade me seek out the rebellion in Mystacor. I rode here with twenty thousand steeds and five thousand men to lend my might to your cause and all I ask for in return is the right to avenge my father. If I must I can ride away as easily as I came, there are other kingdoms with whom I can form an alliance. I had thought to bring myself before the wise and esteemed Castaspella and I find in her place a woman who is not even from this planet. You do not honor your cause by pleading for mercy for your enemy. You should be eager as I to dispatch this cold-blooded marauder yet you continue to allow this 'peasant'," and he spat the word as if it were foul, "to berate me my indignation and righteous fury!" Netossa's obsidian gaze shot up to glare balefully at the men before her.  
  
"Prince Adonai, before you open your foul mouth again to belittle one of the rebellions noblest champions it would behoove you to remember," and here her voice rose, "the rebellion is largely made up of peasants like him! I am one of them." She then turned her angry and weary eyes to Bow, speaking in a calmer but no less forceful tone, "Bow, Adora chose her fate when she sided with our enemy. As far as the rebellion in Mystacor is concerned she is on her own. If Adonai meets her in battle he may do what he likes, if she is captured I will personally insure they face each other in battle." She ignored Bow's incredulous slack-jawed stare, turning her attention again to the prince. "On that you have my solemn oath as the ruling voice of Mystacor." Prince Adonai smirked, bowing low.  
  
"I can have my troops and the horses ready by this evening, select fifteen thousand of your best men to ride with the cavalry. I guarantee you the war horses of Blackmoor are trained for battle and will turn the tide of the siege of Brightmoon in our favor."  
  
"Get it done." Netossa turned to Bow again. "Are those men you've been training ready to fly into battle in the horde flyers?" Bow was furious.  
  
"Yes, but we can't just-"  
  
"Yes." Netossa hissed, wrathfully, "we can. We can turn our backs on Adora, as easily as she turned hers on us. If you want to save your girlfriend then I suggest you stop the Prince before he gets to her- but do NOT jeopardize the agreement I just made with him or I will throw you in the dungeon myself. Adora is not on our side anymore, Bow. Wake up and join reality." Bow could barely restrain his fury as turning, he stormed out of the room.  
  
With a sigh of frustrated anger Netossa collapsed in a chair next to the silent Peekablu. She put her head down on the table and moaned, loudly. Then smacked her head against the table lightly, twice for good measure.  
  
"It is not easy to lead the people you love in a war." Peekablu whispered gently.  
  
Netossa sat up her silver hair fell in her face like a glittering waterfall of silk. She blew it in mock anger before running her long black fingers through the mop, tossing it back. Her wide generous lips spread with a sad smile, illuminating her heart shaped face with a gentle light. The white and blue costume she wore accentuating her regal beauty. She was garbed in her entertainers outfit, one of several she always wore, for though she was a leader now, at heart, she would always be a performer. The white corset she wore accentuated her narrow waist and pushed her firm full breasts upward; the bustier was complimented by sheer satin of powder blue on a stiff but malleable wire frame at her shoulders, creating a high-necked collar, she felt, made her appear more dignified. She wore a royal blue mini cape and had powder blue gauntlets more for decoration than defense and a skirt created from alternating strips of white leather and blue sheer muslin strips. She did not wear her trap pack as she was inside the palace but it was nearby if needed and loaded with nets coated in a sticky film and two powdered with sleep dust. It also contained a stun rifle she had pilfered from a horde trooper on a raid months ago.  
  
"It's hard to lead anyone when your not used to giving orders or balancing political agenda's." She answered with a self-mocking tone. Peekablu laughed lightly.  
  
"Tell me about it. You should try religion, that's even harder." Netossa grinned unsure of how to respond. There was an awkward silence.  
  
"Adora isn't a lost cause you know." Peekablu said, breaking the moment. Netossa glanced her way.  
  
"Regardless, that's not my concern. The point is we need the reinforcements and the only way we get the cavalry is to let the little prince have his way. I can live with that."  
  
"Even if it means Adora's demise based on a promise you made?" Peekablu asked. Netossa glared into the seress' milky orbs in rankled reproach.  
  
"That boy wouldn't last five minutes with Adora in combat. Right now we need what he has to offer. I'll let the future sort itself out." She waited a moment before asking.  
  
"Do you see anything?" Peekablu was silent before answering.  
  
"If I live all will be lost in the battle for my homeland. If I die there is hope." Netossa went pale.  
  
"WHAT!" She turned her dark-eyed gaze to the two people flanking her friend. "Did you hear what she just said?!" She put her hands on Peekablu's arms, kneeling at her side, gazing in entreaty at her beautiful face with its blank gaze empty of emotion; she read no fear or jest or even grim acceptance. "My friend. no." Netossa felt tears well up in her eyes. Peekablu laughed softly, raising a soft hand to gently cup her friends smooth cheek in her palm.  
  
"It will not be the end of me dear friend. It will merely be the next step of my journey. I don't understand how it will work out but our salvation depends on my death. I am ready for what I face." Netossa buried her face in her friends lap and wept silently.  
  
"We've all lost so much. Too much. I don't want to lose you too." Peeka said nothing merely holding her friend and smoothing her hair away from her face. 


	16. Ahgo's prayer

Chapter 16 Salvation  
  
"By the first ones!" Bow exhaled. As he viewed the carnage from above. The horde was regrouping they were blocking in the rebel forces. The trolls and the people were being herded to the rivers edge. Suddenly he was blinded by a searing flash. The instruments at his fingers started blipping and flashing. The flier in his control dipped and swayed as he struggled to right it.  
  
"What on Etheria was that!" Bow gasped.  
  
"Don't know sir. But whatever it was it blew a huge hole in the middle of the troopers." The voice came on over the radio system that united the batniks.  
  
"Did it help?"  
  
"Some, but it won't last long. The rebel force is small and shrinking fast."  
  
"Then lets help them out- start pushing buttons!" Bow said.  
  
"Sir?" The voice questioned. Bow just laughed.  
  
"It's an inside joke, lets go blow people up."  
  
"Sir, the bombs we've loaded are full of sleeping gas." Bow sighed.  
  
"I know soldier, I know, c'mon lets do our job." The batniks flew to the rear of the Horde army and began dropping their missiles.  
  
The firing systems were inoperable which was why the flying machines had been stationed on Scorpion Hill for repair. Bow attempted to fix some of the wiring, unfortunately it was all he could do to figure out how to work the thing. At first he assumed it would be easy, all he would have to do would be to push some buttons and it would kind of fall into place. He inadvertently set off the self destruct to one flier, blowing it up and hit the eject button on another hurling him into the murmuring pools in Mystacor's gardens. Finally, frustrated, he took a team back to Scorpion Hill and captured Scorpia. In exchange for a luxurious maximum security suite and all the food and entertainment she desired Scorpia agreed to show Bow how to work the fliers. He in turn showed his men. She did however refuse to aid in repairing the firing mechanisms. All they could do was release the grappling gear and let the missiles fall, they were designed to explode on impact.  
  
The second the fliers bypassed the frontlines, Black's cheers turned to chokes of stunned disbelief. Then they began dropping missiles on his army and Black could only watch in horror as his people dropped off to sleep. The robots kept fighting as did the people at the front but a third of his army was now out for the count. The Horde fliers turned and departed, flying back the way they had come. Back to Mystacor. The rebellion let out a loud cheer and surged forward with new vigor. Then- unbelievably the doors of Brightmoon opened and an army surged forth, soldiers as well as peasants rushed forward in one last effort to reclaim the freedom they had lost. Black smiled grimly. It was a desperate and foolish act perpetuated by a desperate and foolish queen, one he could use to his advantage. He could still win this thing!  
  
"Gold flank! Yeah you! Take all your men- you won't be missed here. I want the gates of Brightmoon blown apart. I want them annihilated. Angella will have to withdraw her shielding in order to let her people through, I don't want it ever possible for those gates to close again. MOVE!" He screamed when they didn't move quick enough. He then headed for the gate himself to take out the guards.  
  
Grizzlor slashed furiously at the rebels as they charged him. This was battle! This was what he liked. No superpowered females with their namby pamby goodness, no heroes to fight him and humiliate him, just ordinary people with their ordinary puny strength running right to him so he could rip them in half. He had lost count of the people he'd killed. He knew in some more rational corner of his mind he was destroying a lot of his own troopers as well but it had been so long since he was allowed to indulge in such a bloodfest that he was gorging himself. The trolls were the most fun. They ran at him pounding him with their clubs and their maces, calling up the very earth from beneath his feet to bring him down but he was too strong, too powerful for them. His howls and roars struck terror into all as he moved forward through the ranks his goal clear and then he stood before the troll king.  
  
"Ahgo. Dirt lord of Spike heart. Are you ready to die?"  
  
"No more ready to die than I am to kill." Grizzlor grinned evilly at the kings weary answer.  
  
"Just what I would expect from a weak little man fighting for peace."  
  
"Do not mistake my desire for peace as weakness on my part. I have my own share of blood on my hands this day."  
  
"Ahh," Grizzlor growled, "but did you savor the killing? Did you enjoy the blood. Did you indulge in the sweetness of fresh killed flesh?" He laughed evilly at the trolls revulsion.  
  
"I think I am ready to kill now, beast." Ahgo raised his mace, slamming it into Grizzlors side. Grunting Grizzlor caught it with one hand and raising his other, while yanking the troll king toward him he raked his claws down the kings face.  
  
"Ummtivo dol alldain!" Lightning splintered the sky and struck between them, slicing over Grizzlor's skin and Ahgo's, leaving a long bloody gouge down their skin and singeing Grizzlor's fur. The power separated the two and sent them both flying backward. The smell of burnt flesh perfumed the air. Ahgo got heavily to his feet as Grizzlor howled in fury. He raised a hand then lowered it. He was exhausted. The battle was lost he knew. What was the point in trying. He knew Glimmer had fallen and had not got up. He saw little point in battling to free his people today when he knew they would be slaves again tomorrow or corpses by evening.  
  
Thunder rumbled warningly. Ahgo looked to the sky. It had been dawn when the attack began. Daylight was almost exhausted, already the first few stars were poking out their sparkling heads to greet the new evening. But not a cloud obscured the light of Etheria's three moons. What then was the rumbling he heard? He stood slowly to his feet and turned and hope was born anew in his flagging heart. Men. Human men and women on magnificent steeds with golden skin and amber manes and hooves that shot fire from the earth. A new sound filled the air to the accompaniment of the thundering hooves and the scent of earth being turned and blood being spilt. It was the sound of a rescue. The sound of Hope. The cheer of rebels, renewed again, and just in time as well. Ahgo estimated the cavalry charging the horde at being well over ten thousand. For the first time in the battle he felt that victory might just be theirs.  
  
Suddenly he was in the dirt with no idea how he got there. The world was aligned wrong. He was seeing it sideways. His head was throbbing as well.  
  
"Did you think it would be so easy?" A voice snarled above him and he was hoisted to his feet. Suddenly Ahgo screamed in agony as flesh was torn from his back and shoulder and he flew to the ground. He felt his life blood spilling out of a gaping wound in his back and he wept with the fiery agony as he turned to face his enemy. Grizzlor loomed above him his jaw working the chunk of flesh in his mouth. He then spit the wad of masticated meat at the troll at his feet.  
  
"You taste terrible. Guess we'll skip dinner and I'll just get right to killin' ya."  
  
"Not today." Ahgo whispered. Closing his eyes he palmed the earth beneath him and focused all his energy, all his will on the terra below him. Grizzlor reached for the king but found himself stuck he looked down and screamed in horror. The earth was swallowing him, crawling up his body inches at a time and squeezing him. How he bellowed! He roared. He howled, evilly, and Ahgo continued his silent entreaty with the earth that spawned him. The mother that never failed him consumed his enemy, stealing him away into her dark womb. And Grizzlor was gone.  
  
Ahgo remained where he was. Bleeding and resting. He decided to leave the battle to the others and think instead of her. In his minds eye he held her hand, smelled her scent and caressed her silken hair. A smile graced her fair features and it was meant for him alone. Before he drifted into unconsciousness he sent one last entreaty to whatever deity might be watching. He prayed, not for himself but for the princess who had fallen. Let her live. He pleaded. Let her live.  
  
Blackmoor rode at the front of the troops. His steeds were doing their jobs. Trained to be warhorses they did not idly carry their riders, They bit the enemy tearing them apart, swinging them around. They stomped the enemy. They trampled the fallen with ruthless efficiency; it wasn't long before the battle was finished and it was time to tend the wounded and round up the survivors- on both sides, and refortify the battered defenses. Adonai rode to the castle, eager to speak to the Queen of Brightmoon on any word of Onyx. He was in for a surprise when he discovered Queen Angella at the gates. Bodies of troopers littered the ground at the elegant beauty's feet. A man in trooper armor gazed lifelessly at the sky, his skin pasty in death a look of terror on his face forever frozen on his ashen countenance.  
  
"And you haven't seen her since?" He heard her ask, distressed. His gaze flew from the dead on the ground to the winged queens face.  
  
"No milady. We believe." and here the soldier faltered. "we. we think she may have..fallen." Brightmoons Queen looked as if she had been struck by a hammer. She staggered and Adonai was distraught to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. It puzzled him that they did not fall. He rode to her side.  
  
"Queen Angella, I am Adonai Dusk, the Prince of Blackmoor. Might I be of aid to you?" Angella looked up to see a beautiful man of dark coloring astride a steed of glimmering gold.  
  
"My daughter. We cannot find my daughter, Glimmer."  
  
"What does she look like?"  
  
"She looks like- like an angel!" The winged Queen fell to her knees and retched. Adonai looked at the soldier. The soldier pulled him aside and gave him a description of their princess begging him to find her. Adonai nodded promising to try and rode off to search the bodies that littered the ground like dark lumps of refuse. He was searching for pink. Shouldn't be difficult to spot in all the dark black and red and gray surrounding him. 


	17. Aftermath

Chapter 17 Aftermath  
  
Ahgo awoke in a dimly lit tent. His mouth was dry. He felt as though he was peering through a thick fog. He moaned. Or he tried to. No sound issued forth. He was just about to let the darkness claim him again, for the pain was intense and he rather missed the numb of the void, when a voice, no more than a whisper reached his ear. It was a man. His words gave Ahgo pause and for some reason the troll king strained ever more intently to hear him.  
  
"She fought bravely, m'lord. She proved her willingness to die for her people."  
  
"She did indeed but at what cost to herself? She may yet live."  
  
"Bah, it would be a blessing, if you ask me, if she slipped away during the night. The pain alone could make her go mad. Plus, even if she is a princess and all, what man would want her, looking like she does now." The man murmured an agreement.  
  
"Still, if she was to live she would breed strong sons and she's a war hero besides. Imagine the power Brightmoon could bring to bear allied with the house of Blackmoor."  
  
"Highness!" The first voice gasped in horror, "surely you cannot mean you would take her as your own. You could have any woman, she is a hero and a princess and a powerful sorceress but she is damaged far too seriously, could you love her?!"  
  
"Rand, I need not love my bride, I always knew I would marry for duty. Anyhow its all idle speculation, the healers say she will more than likely die before morning."  
  
"True. And as I said m'lord, tis for the best."  
  
"I disagree." The second voice said. Then softer, as if to another, "be strong. You have within you the power to live, fight."  
  
Ahgo lay on his cot, a cold rage and paralyzing fear washing over him. Glimmer! It had to be Glimmer they meant. How dare they talk about her like that! As if she were meat at the market one might wish to purchase!  
  
Then the rest of what they said sank in. What was wrong with her? They thought she would die. Ahgo dug deep into his physical reserves, and still, only decades of grueling training to learn the highest levels of earth magic gave him the self discipline to keep from falling into oblivion, as he slowly forced himself to stand. His back began flaming anew with a raging pain, a dizzying wash of weakness fell over him and he stumbled to his knees. He crawled, on all fours, in the direction of the voices. The men were gone now, but a small candle burned in the corner of the tent on the opposite side of a partition. Ahgo could feel his blood dripping down his back and shoulder, down his arm and pooling in small dark splatters on the ground. Some of it got on his hands and he left great, large palm prints of blood on the floor. He cared not. He cared for one thing. He cared for the woman he feared would be lying near death on the other side of the partition. Growling softly he ripped aside the flimsy material, barely more than a sheet. He feared he would be right. He feared more he would be wrong and she would not be there, but instead be one of the bodies buried on the battlefield unfound or unnoticed by comrades and rebels.  
  
He crawled toward a cot near the candle. His breath heaving, his strength fading, he made it to the side of the slumbering form on the cot and as his eyes drank in her glorious beauty he breathed a sigh of relief as her chest rose and fell. Glimmer moaned softly then whimpered in pain. Her head turned and Ahgo would have gasped at the sickening sight that greeted him if he had possessed the strength. As it was all he could do was drink in the sight of his beloved. The entire left side of her body from her forehead to her foot was covered in charred flesh. The skin had been cooked off. The meat was blistered and oozing and the sheet she lay on was crusted with dried blood and fluids. Ahgo knew she would die soon. It was only the strength of her will that kept her alive this long. Ahgo allowed the tears to flood and pour and he reached out a large hairy arm to touch her cheek. His guttural voice slashed the stillness.  
  
"Had I the power, fair princess, I would lay down my life that you might live." He repressed an anguished groan clenching his teeth together so that his lower jaw thrust outward, his bottom canines giving him a doltish brute-like appearance.  
  
"You love her." It was not a question. The voice came from a darkened corner on the opposite side of the bed. Ahgo looked up and beheld Brightmoons queen. Her face was pale and gaunt and an air of hopelessness clung to her fine boned countenance with sullen tenacity.  
  
"Aye." Ahgo answered.  
  
"It is good then, that you are here. She should be surrounded by the ones who love her. Before she dies." Ahgo could say nothing. How could he comfort the queen in her grief when his own threatened to consume him.  
  
"Who were those men that dared speak of the princess as they did in your presence."  
  
"Not important, I did not wish to be seen so they did not see me."  
  
"And there is nothing you can do?" He felt compelled to question.  
  
"In three days time it will be the new moon. Were Glimmer to live, at that time I could heal her wounds. As it is, only her magic and what remains of her will, fire the life spark burning inside her. Soon it will go out. I can only heal minor scrapes and abrasions, nothing of this damage.  
  
"What of the Crystal Castle lady?" Ahgo asked. "Does not its magic defend your home when the moons light is gone?"  
  
"Yes, but the castle does not lend its power to me, I am not its champion or custodian of its power. I am merely one who benefits from its aid."  
  
"Then that's it then." Ahgo whispered in despair.  
  
"Not quite." Angella whispered softly. Ahgo looked up at her. He saw the tears in her eyes but they did not fall. "We watch her die."  
  
Gazing at the woman he loved in such obvious agony and knowing death would soon snatch her from his world Ahgo hoped he would soon follow her. If she lived, she would marry another, she would lye in another's arms, share his bed and his future and bear his sons, but she would live. Ahgo could continue knowing that she continued. But were she to die all desire for life would extinguish with her. The despair- it was not to be borne. Ahgo slumped to the floor unconscious.  
  
Angella watched him fall. Then turned her gaze back to her dying daughter. Angella sighed into the darkness. His tears were a balm to her wounded soul, releasing the grief so new and raw that lay within her. His grief flowed so easy down his ugly face, why then couldn't she vent her own in like manner?  
  
High atop his mountain home Lighthope absorbed the sensations of life moving around him. He felt the sorrow of Brightmoons queen, he felt the pain of its princess, he felt the rise and fall of her chest as if it were his own. He felt the ebb and flow of life in Spikehearts king, he felt Ahgo's will to live diminish and then rise again, struggling almost in vain against the dark spectre of death. Light Hope felt the rise of Earth magic move with powerful grace over the land as Spikehearts ruler summoned up all that remained of his power to enter the Crystal castle in spirit form.  
  
Welcome, my old friend. A disembodied voice greeted with sad warmth.  
  
"Help her!" Spikehearts deep voice begged.  
  
I cannot. I have not the power to do so.  
  
"Then surely you know of someone who can! Please. don't let her die. I kept your secret for years without number as did my fathers before me. The debt is paid if Brightmoon's princess will live"  
  
There is one who could help her.  
  
"Then summon her, I beg ye." Ahgo, King of Trolls, Lord of Mountains and Son of Earth fell to his knees and begged for the life of the woman he loved.  
  
I will try.  
  
It was enough. Ahgo's spirit returned to its body secure that if anything could be done it would be. 


	18. SheRa

Chapter 18- She-Ra  
  
"Be sure to rotate patrols regularly. I want four shifts instead of three on guard duty every twelve hours. Hordak wants this accursed tower warded well, I intend to see it done right."  
  
"Aye, Commanding General." The officer saluted smartly, then turning on her heel, returned to her post. Commanding General Onyx squeezed her legs together, urging the beast beneath her to an angry trot. It was always angry. Its rage sustained her when her own exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her resources.  
  
Theirs was a symbiotic relationship, the spiritual energies of the Horde- steed fed off her own will, returning power and rage to her. In this heightened state of violent emotion Onyx was always ready to snap. Her control being tested to the limit, she knew she was close to breaking. The beasts muscles moved beneath her. Her body rocked in a gentle rhythm as she circled the town. She ignored the sweat dripping down her forehead, in spite of the frigid weather. She also ignored the ache in her thighs and lower back due to endless hours perched in the saddle. What she could not ignore was the buzz of energy emanating from the spectral tower at the apex of Rendwoll. It added to her irritation, making her head throb. But she was a soldier and a soldier was used to discomfort. She scowled at her thoughts, berating herself harshly for her lapse into self-pity.  
  
The city wall was rebuilt, the ion canons fully charged in case of assault. No one could get in or out of the village, except through the front gate. As Force Captain Adora, Onyx had been to Rendwoll several times with Hordak; overseeing tax collection and participating in training exercises in the fields outside the town. As She-Ra, she had been here twice on recruitment missions. Never had the town possessed any aura of magic or power. But now, it practically vibrated with magical fervency. If there was one thing Adora could sense it was the presence of power. Wielding the Sword of Protection for seven years, channeling the awesome power of Grayskull through the sword and into her body for so long, left her with a strong and uncanny sixth sense about such things.  
  
The power emanated from the tower. Her first inclination was to enter the Ivory Citadel which thrust from the earth like a giant fist raised in defiance to the rest of the world. Hordak, however, left explicit instructions only dire need should dictate she breach the doors to the building. Besides, Onyx had a feeling the power in the building was not for her, or Adora. It was a power that belonged to someone specific. She would be an interloper in the tower, and the tower would not willingly tolerate the presence of strangers. Onyx shuddered in the chill air of the evening, forcing her gaze away from the shimmering obelisk.  
  
Only two cities stood free on Etheria. Brightmoon, under siege, with no hope of rescue and Mysticor. The last hope of the rebels would fall after her sister city's destruction. Pockets of resistance plagued horde troops in various places but they were minor annoyances, nothing threatening. Some small kingdoms around the mountains still offered token resistance but they would quickly be subdued. Soon Etheria would be conquered and the people would either submit to slavery or unite and rise up as one. The beast beneath her reared suddenly. Onyx, unprepared was thrown several feet into the air. She screamed, landing with a thud on the hard earth.  
  
"What the-"  
  
Adora. Adora. I need you.  
  
"What! Who. who's there?" Adora muttered to the air.  
  
Step outside the forcefield. The energy from the tower is preventing me from communicating clearly.  
  
"Who is it?" Adora asked out loud. Only the night responded. Its silence was deafening. The stars beckoning her, bugs cried out, foliage crunched as serpents slithered. Adora was not afraid. She moved forward, vaulting over the wall in one smooth motion. "Alright, show yourself!" She commanded.  
  
Do you not remember me, dear friend? There was a chiding, yet wistful note in the voice in her head, which now spoke clearly and strong rather than the muffled whisper it had been.  
  
"Light Hope." It was a statement. There was no pleasure in her voice, no warmth. Adora had been alone, trapped in the role of Onyx for too long. She knew she should be less stiff, more caring, but she couldn't seem to find the desire to care inside her. "what do you want?" She sounded bored.  
  
Step through the portal. Suddenly a golden gloriole of shimmering star streaks appeared before her, ocular in shape. It was a dimensional gateway, similar to the one she used to travel to Eternia, where her brother lived.  
  
"Why?" She asked, making no move to enter the portal. Something inside of her was unwinding, something dark and angry and cold. "I don't have time for this. I need to return before I am missed." She turned to leap back over the wall.  
  
PRINCESS OF POWER YOU MADE A VOW TO PROTECT THIS PLANET. YOU WILL ENTER THE PORTAL.  
  
Adora flinched in shock, trembling in fear as the power of the voice vibrated down her spine and into the depths of her very soul a chill wash of compulsion overtook her will. She found herself turning back to the portal. It was as if a war were being waged inside her skin. Half of her was screaming to run, in fury and wrath, to return to the village, call for backup; and another half, a buried and forgotten half, was pushing her into the portal. Forgotten Duty warred with angry desire and each second brought her closer to the portal. Why was she fighting? She was Horde. She feared nothing. People feared her. With a toss of her hair, lifting her chin, she willingly took the final step through the gateway. Instantaneously Adora appeared within the Crystal Castle and it was as if a spell were broken. She was horrified at what she had almost done.  
  
"Light Hope! I. I'm sorry. I forgot who I was. I. I got muddled!" There was a haunted, shocked quality in her voice that frightened her more than her actions. A shimmering coruscation of rainbow light, flowing like a waterfall in reverse from the center of the floor before her, greeted her abrupt entrance. The love emanating in waves from the being of light seemed to permeate every molecule of Adora's body, erasing the anger and hate she had fed off of for so long. Adora was returned as reality shifted and Onyx was put back in her place, subordinate to Adora's will. Waves of golden light shot from the guardian of the Crystal Castle, traveling through Adora's body, entering her chest and exiting her back like ephemeral golden comets, soothing the pain and the emotional calluses she had been forced to grow. It was a baptism of love and Adora was renewed.  
  
"I am returned dear friend!" Adora cried out through her tears.  
  
I am gladdened champion of life.  
  
"What can I do to be of aid?" Adora asked decisively; she knew only dire circumstances would compel Light Hope to pull her out of her cover.  
  
The princess Glimmer and Ahgo King of Trolls lay dying within the camp outside of Brightmoon. Without She-Ra's immediate aid they will die. The rebellion will lose two of its noblest and most heroic champions. All hope may die with them.  
  
Adora swallowed past the lump in her throat but couldn't stop the small gasp of emotional pain that escaped her lips.  
  
"Light Hope, I don't know if the sword will work for me. Ever since I killed Leech- it is different or I am different. I. I can not bring myself to touch the naked blade!" Adora's eyes burned with shame and fear. "The Sorceress told me- she warned me not to kill with the sword but I did not heed her warning. It was my blade that severed Leeches head from his neck."  
  
I do not know what consequences will come about if you use the sword to transform. I do know what will happen to Princess Glimmer and King Ahgo if you do not try. The choice is yours. Both the first ones and myself, all the guardians of Etheria's hope and custodians of the past, the many who gave there lives to prepare for this time in Etheria's history, trust that you will make the right decision.  
  
Adora heard his words not just with her ears but in her heart. In her mind she saw Flutterina, her delicate beauty encouraging her to be bold; she saw the six small forms of the dead children, the ones in whose name she began her mad quest for unity at any cost. She beheld the council of the first ones as they had been in that place between life and death, darkness and light. They believed in her. So many depended on her. Then she thought of Glimmer, the fiery princess of rebels, she remembered the innocent warmth with which the princess had greeted her when she first joined the rebellion. Glimmer was an endless source of strength in those early days. Her naïve belief that good would triumph, and right would win against the odds arrayed against them, inspired Adora and countless others when hope seemed most distant.  
  
Adora made her choice.  
  
"Light Hope, where is Spirit. I will change- but I fear being alone." She heard her voice tremble and felt a wash of warmth from the Crystal Castle's guardian.  
  
He is in Mysticor, dear heart.  
  
"I must retrieve the sword." Her voice quavered in spite of her resolve.  
  
A portal opened before her.  
  
Good journey, Princess of Power.  
  
"Good Journey, my friend. Thank you. Thank you for helping me find my way back to myself." In an instant, she vanished.  
  
Adora appeared outside of her lodgings; a lavish, tent-like construction, about thirty feet in diameter. She held council's here, with her force captains and honor guard. Purposefully, she entered her quarters, heading straight for the back where her trunks were kept. There were two of them stacked together, near a small wooden table, rough and splintered on wobbling legs. A map of the area was spread over its unsanded surface. She bent over, heaving the top trunk aside. It landed on the earthen floor with a solid thud. Dust made a small gray cloud in the air around it, but to this, Adora paid no heed as she opened the second trunk. Adora pulled out her old force captain's outfit, the red suede arousing a flush of yearning in her heart to be back in the whispering woods with her friends, laughing beside a camp fire over some oddball remark Madame would make. Blinking back the tears threatening to fall, she made herself concentrate on Glimmer's need.  
  
Beneath a few items of apparel was a bolt of crimson velvet. Wrapped within the velvet was her sword. Adora pulled it out of the trunk, still wrapped in the soft material and headed toward the exit. Once outside the tent, as if on cue, another portal appeared before her. She entered without hesitation. On the other side she found Spirit awaiting her arrival. He nickered joyfully, trotting to her side.  
  
"Oh Spirit!" Adora gasped, as he fondly nuzzled her chest with his muzzle, small nickering noises emitting from his throat, expressing the joy he felt at being reunited with his long absent mistress and friend. Tears once again swam in her eyes, blurring her vision, but this time she wept with joy and a fierce surge of love rose within her breast as she clung tight to Spirit's auburn mane. She allowed herself a few brief moments to revel in the luxury of being loved, before pulling away, and looking into the wide, intelligent eyes of her equine companion.  
  
"Glimmer needs our help Spirit! We can't let her down. She needs She-Ra, though, not me, and Swift-Wind can get her there faster than anything else." Spirit pawed the ground, lifting his head as if in understanding. Taking a breath Adora forced herself to grip the sword in her hand, allowing the crimson material to fall to the ground.  
  
Immediately a wave of malevolence rose from the blade, enveloping her in a dark and malice-filled miasma. Adora was driven to her knees as the assault on her spirit increased in strength. A frightened gasp found its way past her constricted throat and terror engulfed her. A will, not her own was fighting for dominance of her being. Something was inside her head, sifting through her thoughts and memories. It was vicious, ripping and tearing through her mind, visions of her life flashed in brutal clarity across her psyche as she relived every hateful, hurtful action, thought and deed. Pain held her in its thrall now, and refused to let go. Adora suddenly realized she could not release the sword, even if she wanted to.  
  
Spirit reared on his hind legs, nostrils flaring in panic and fear. He knew something was not right. He pranced and bucked nervously around Adora's trembling form, equine screams of fear and concern emitting from his powerful throat as he watched helplessly as his mistress endured a torment he did not understand.  
  
Adora could feel the malice of the will in her mind as it dominated her thoughts with savage enjoyment, causing her to relive every bestial moment of Leeches execution. Suddenly Adora somehow knew that part of the will was Leech. She could feel him, oozing through her thoughts, gloating and triumphant as he forced her to her knees, reveling in his power over his former commander, even in death. Suddenly something shifted in Adora's brain. Pain exploded with feral intensity behind her eyes. If possible she would have screamed. Then, like a marionette, being jerked on a string Adora shot to her feet. An essence other than her own controlled her now, as she thrust her arm into the dark night sky.  
  
Moonlight and starlight caressed the silver blade of precious metal. Words unuttered in thousands of years were forced from her fear fettered throat.  
  
"For the Honor, of Grayskull!" Powerful sparks ejaculated violently from the sword tip, spraying Mysticor's central garden with a starburst of golden ebullience. "I yield to hero's judgment!" Pain splintered and coruscated down Adora's entire body. Emerald fire raced the length and breadth of her limbs. It seemed as if Grayskulls power was flowing into her body and tearing her open from the inside. Then in a flash the pyrotechnics were gone. Adora crumpled to the ground. She was transformed, she thought, with an oddly detached part of her mind.  
  
She didn't think she would be able to heal Glimmer though. Or Ahgo, either. Adora knew, even though she was now She-Ra, she was dying. She could feel her life slipping from her body, she knew a great psychic wound had opened inside her and if it was not closed she would die. The pain was intense, but nowhere near as bad as it had been when she transformed. Adora knew, though part of the will that had invaded her had been almost like an echo of Leech a large part of it- the part that had judged her- was the will governing the power of her sword. Powers bestowed on it by the ones who had forged it, endowing it with all the powers of Grayskull.  
  
Swift Wind stood over his supine friend, worry clouding his doe-eyed gaze.  
  
"She-Ra, what is wrong? I sense your pain." She-Ra smiled sadly at her friend. She reached a trembling hand towards his velvet soft coat, stroking his forelimb, unable to sit up and embrace him, so great was her agony.  
  
"I am dying, my friend." Swift Wind whinnied in angry protest.  
  
"Nay, friend! Etheria needs its champion! She-Ra you must not die!" She- ra sighed softly.  
  
"It is not my choice. I only wish." Her voice faded and tears the pain could not wrest from her welled and fell from eyes blue as cerulean seas, yet clouded with ineffable sadness and world-weary acceptance.  
  
"Tell me, dear friend."  
  
"I will die without telling Bow how I feel. He will live on never knowing I." Her voice cracked and she could not continue. Swift Wind snorted in defiance.  
  
"Hang on my friend. Though I cannot heal you, this I can change. Don't die. Please, just don't die!" With a terrified whinny Swift Wind leapt into the air, flying toward the castle gates at Mysticor. 


	19. Sorrow

Chapter 19 Sorrow  
  
In the far distance the very roots of Mt. Skydancer, whereon dwelt the Crystal Castle, hidden atop its cloud covered peaks, trembled and quaked, the earth at the base of the mountain shifted and opened, swallowing whole towns as its guardian roared in sorrow and grief.  
  
Miles away, in the heart of the Whispering woods Madame Razz gasped in terror and despair. She could feel the waning life force of Etheria's champion and as She-Ra's spirit faded into the ether, she took with her the last remaining ember of hope in the old witch's heart. When Madame moved into the glade where she cast most of her spells the twiggets seemed to sense her need. They melted out of the tree tops, and from behind the trunks of the great pink titans. Broom awaited her as well. Their eyes met. It was no longer Broom and Madame who stood facing each other in the face of such disaster. It was the benevolent and powerful enchantress Ayella Adami and her noble love, the most powerful transfigurer in Etheria's history, Lysander Steel.  
  
"All hope is lost." Her voice was wavery, paper thin and cut the silence with the force of thunder. Her small, plump form was stooped and defeated. Broom moved towards her, taking her in his arms, offering her the only comfort he could.  
  
"She-Ra?" He questioned without needing confirmation. He could feel it too. Madame embraced him briefly, before drawing back.  
  
"We will complete the task we started all those years ago." Her voice was resolute. Broom swallowed. She continued, her eyes sad. "We've lived a long time my love. Longer than we ever had a right to expect. We've seen over ten generations of men come and pass. We were here to nurture the rebellion in her infancy, to mentor the young, and lend aid as needed. Our time is done. There is one more thing we can do for our people. We can assure them the sanctuary we promised each other we would make for them."  
  
"Our power is not great enough to keep them supplied with food and warmth all winter." Broom whispered. Madame looked at him, smiling, and in that instant she was transformed. She was again the woman he had loved and now, shining back at him from the depths of her lavender eyes, was the love he had once looked for and been unable to find.  
  
"I am so sorry Lysander. I am so sorry I couldn't love you like you deserved all those years ago." Broom felt a lump well up in his throat. He put an arm around her waist and another around her neck, drawing her close to him.  
  
"My love was enough. You loved me, in your way. There is no need for apologies."  
  
"I loved you. But not the way a woman loves a mate. Not then. Maybe I was too immature, maybe I was too intent on saving the world to really give enough of myself to any man. Regardless, I know you suffered endless agonies because my affection lacked the depth necessary to complete the spell we cast that night."  
  
"It was my fault. I blinded myself to the possibility that you may not love me like I loved you." Broom growled fervently.  
  
"The point is," Madame said, unwilling to argue, "I know that even though my love wavered, yours never did. You stayed with me through many ages, protecting me, loving me, content to be no more than a companion. In my more lucid moments I knew I would never be loved like that by another person ever again. You loved me more than I deserved. More than any person deserves. That kind of devotion does things to a woman over the centuries." Her voice shook with emotion. "It's so late, too late, but I love you Lysander Steel. I love you with all my ancient and withered heart!" Madame laughed through her tears. Lysander laughed as well, love shining through his eyes brighter than any sun.  
  
"Ayella, dearest Ayella, I have loved you for years beyond reckoning and you don't look a bit different than you did that first time I saw you enter my castle. I'll never forget the passion in your eyes and the fires in your heart, as you made your cause my own."  
  
"Can you ever forgive the folly of an old woman?" Madame asked.  
  
"There is aught to forgive, beloved." Broom pulled her close to him and Madame nestled her head against his spindly frame. A gentle wind seemed to rise from the forest floor. Silver stardust began to fall over their enfolded forms, like a light, glittering rain. The twiggets formed a circle around the lovers, who clung so desperately one to the other.  
  
"It is time to finish it my love."  
  
"Yes." Broom agreed. "We have a power now that is strong enough to last an eternity."  
  
"And Beyond." Madame whispered her voice at once full of sorrow and joy.  
  
"My love will last when even stars fail." Broom whispered into her hair.  
  
"Mine as well." Madame replied. The stardust fell faster. The clinging figures in the center of the silvery mist slowly morphed into two, tall, noble forms. One, an elegant beauty with a flowing silver waterfall of hair, skin as glowing and vibrant as a sunrise imprisoned on an ivory canvas. The most arresting feature was the amethyst eyes gazing from a heart shaped face, dusted with a rose petal red blush over her cheeks, toward the tall, regal man holding her in his strong, lean arms. She wore a flowing purple and silver gown, he wore a silver doublet and silver pantaloons with dark violet tights encasing his long muscled limbs. A royal purple cape trailed behind him. He had a strong chin and steel gray eyes. Long black hair fell to his shoulders and the love in his eyes would steal breath from the living and return life to the dead.  
  
"Beloved." He whispered. Then the twiggets faded into nothing and roots began to blossom over the floor of the woods from the legs of the two lovers. They never lost eye contact as the silvery bark of the tree grew upward, covering both their forms. In minutes Madame and Broom were gone. In their place stood a tall elegant tree with the faint outline of two people embracing. It was as if two trees had grown from the ground and intertwined. You could almost make out the faces in the bark. Brilliant pink leaves burst into bloom from the towering limbs of the mighty tree and silver flowers blossomed like large silver stars set to rest in the womb of natures greatest treasure.  
  
Throughout the forest a feeling of assurance fell over the rebels within its borders. Fruit bloomed anew from every bush and branch In the streams flowing through the forests children swore they heard the tinkling laughter of a beautiful fairy followed by the gentle echo of her mates unfettered joy. Fish swam up the streams leaping into fishermen's nets. The chill of winter seemed to stop at the forest's border and a warm almost spring-like atmosphere pervaded the woods. Ayella, and her love, truly had created a miracle with their love. A miracle that could ensure the survival of rebels for centuries to come should it be necessary.  
  
And in that moment of noble sacrifice two heroic figures stepped off the pages of history, leaving the future to be written by new hero's on the pages to come. 


	20. Cost and consequence

Chapter 20 Cost and consequence  
  
She-Ra didn't hurt as bad as she had when the pain first started. Oddly enough, she felt as if she were floating. Floating on a cloud of air beneath a canopy of pink and blue and green, as represented in the variety of plant life which loomed above her prone form. She felt the life seeping from her, like blood from a mortal wound. It was the cost of taking a life with the sword always meant for protecting lives. She realized that now.  
  
When the swords were first forged in the depths of Grayskull; that receptacle of power and knowledge for the most dangerous and the most potent magics; enchantments were placed upon the blades so they would never be able to be used for evil purposes. The Sword of Protection was a tool, meant to be wielded by the female half of power. Because females were the generators of the species, it was believed female powers were more intense, more potent than the male half. Females were represented by a world of mothers protecting and nurturing their young. Females were the first healers of the sick and infirm, the first protectors of civilized society. Females were the first to extend their sphere of caring for another outside their sense of self, beyond their sense of 'what's in it for me'.  
  
Females felt emotions with an intensity unmatched by their counterparts. Compassion, empathy, concern, pity, these were the trademark emotions of the woman. A woman would fight a starving and deadly predator in an attempt to save the life of one child- even if the child was not even her own. She was the first protector, the first defender, the first mother. However, the ancients were not prejudiced or blinded by their reverence for the feminine half of magic. They knew, though women had much to recommend them, they were, inevitably, human and prone to the same weaknesses and character flaws as any other person, be they woman or man. So safeguards were added to the swords. The Sword of Protection was much more powerful than the Sword of Power. It had the ability to transform not just the wielder of the blade into the ideal woman warrior, it could transform itself into a variety of forms to aid its bearer in dispensing justice and protection to the needy. It granted its bearer the ability to commune with nature and to heal the sick. The cost it exacted was mercy.  
  
The ancients decided with two powerful swords, to be wielded in times of greatest need, limitations must be enacted to prevent the corruption of their emissaries. So death, being the domain of the masculine half of magic, was granted to the Sword of Power. If death needed delivering it would be at the hands of the man, whose powers were somewhat limited to merely that of a great warrior. The woman would have the ability to extend mercy, thus amplifying her own innate goodness. Should the law of mercy ever be denied using the sword, the bringer of death would be judged according to the first power sword wielder. Hero. The spirit of the slain would be housed in the blade to see justice done on its behalf before being released into the ether, as one life was taken in payment for another. It was, the ancients felt, the only way to ensure its female sword wielder would respect the laws and limitations their ideologies fostered on their heroine.  
  
All these realizations came within the few seconds it had taken her to transform. She-Ra wondered if it would have made a difference had she known prior to changing. Undoubtedly not. Glimmer was her friend as was Ahgo. Adora always was one to help the one's she cared about, no matter what the cost to herself may be. It was part of what made her so ideally suited to the task destiny had appointed for her. She found it ironic that she, Etheria's champion, loved by thousands and revered by the masses would die alone with no one she loved at her side. She closed her eyes, heaving a shaky breath. She just needed to rest for a few minutes.  
  
Not more than five feet from her couchant body, sprawled in a graceless heap on the cold earth, a golden circle of star streams opened, and a great warrior atop a green tiger, exited the portal. His face was a mask of anguish and fear. Swiftly, he dismounted the mighty beast, and in two large strides knelt beside the fallen woman. A bellow of outraged despair flew from his thick throat, to echo inside the courtyard as he scooped the woman into his large, muscular arms. He was dressed in brown leather boots lined with dark fur, and a fur breachcloth covered his endowments. A sword similar to the woman's was sheathed carelessly, on his back. He buried his face into the flowing yellow hair, which fell over his arms like golden silk, unwilling to accept what his eyes told him to be true. He-Man; the most powerful man in the universe, buried his face in the crook of his sister's neck and wept like a child.  
  
Swift Wind's eyes rolled back in fear as he reared up, slamming his fore- hooves into the thick doors of the castle at Mysticor. He knew Bow was inside, in a meeting with Netossa and Peekablu. He knew this because it was Bow's habit to groom Spirit nightly since Adora had been away. Bow spoke freely to Spirit of his love for the horses mistress and how he hoped they would soon be together. It seemed to soothe the man more than the beast to confide in the equine, and as Spirit, the stallion adored the attention. Shouts of alarm rose up as the wood splintered and flew in all directions. Swift Wind held his wings in tight against his back as he galloped down the massive entry hall of the castle. People poured out from the hundreds of doors within the castle, servants, guards and guests. Voices yelling at him to halt barely registered in his mind, so great was his need. Suddenly he knew a moment of stark madness as the weak link he held with his mistress faded and flickered out. Her presence was no longer in his mind. He feared what that would mean. He sent out a mental cry for her. There was no response. Then, there in front of him was the man he sought, flanked by two women and a couple guards.  
  
"Bow!" Swift Wind cried out. The man strode boldly into the hall to meet the frightened flying beast, concern in his dark eyes.  
  
"Swift wind!" He breathed in awe and excitement. "What's wrong? Where's She-Ra?"  
  
"She is dying!" Swift Wind gasped. "She is asking for you. You must get on my back!" Without another word Bow climbed atop the stallion who reared on his hind legs, did a perfect one hundred and eighty degree turn and raced back the way he came. The shocked and horrified faces of the people behind him not even registering.  
  
He-man wept great gulping sobs into the neck of his dying sister. He knew the minute she transformed something was wrong. Although light years across the galaxy and uncountable miles of space separated them, the twins shared a unique bond enabling them to feel when the other was in dire straits. Adam had been ducking one of Teela's training sessions again, when an overwhelming shock of horror and hopelessness clouded over him. He knew his sister was dying. Teela caught him racing out of the palace gates and tried to stop him. Mad with grief, he gave her no thought as he, supposedly the wimpy, cowardly prince Adam, picked up his bodyguard and captain of the guard tossing her out of his way like she was nothing more than a rag doll. He barely waited until he was out of sight before changing into He-Man and transforming Cringer, his cowering companion, into the mighty Battlecat. On the back of his feline steed, He-Man raced with a speed born of desperation, to the gates of Grayskull, which were open and waiting for him. The sorceress hadn't said anything, and he asked no questions of her as she pointed him towards the dimensional gateway which would lead him to his sister. The sorrow in her timeless eyes was confirmation enough that his worst fears would be realized.  
  
A gentle hand reached up to stroke his blond hair from his face and Eternia's champion froze, mid-sob.  
  
"Dear brother." She-Ra whispered, as she gazed lovingly into his tear ravaged face.  
  
"You're alive!" He breathed. Hope rose buoyant in his grief encrusted heart. "I've got to get you to Grayskull. The Sorceress will be able to heal you. I know it." He scooped her, effortlessly into his arms and stood.  
  
"No, brother!" She-Ra gasped. "I am dying. It is Hero's judgment. There is no escape. It is the price I must pay as holder of the Sword of Protection. The Sorceress knows. She warned me. She told me not to kill with the sword. It demands justice as I failed in delivering mercy. A life for a life. It is. unavoidable." Her voice quavered, thin and fragile, accepting of the hand fate had dealt her.  
  
"No!" He-Man roared. His face a mirror of rage and fury. She-Ra quailed in fear for a moment as she failed to recognize the terrifying stranger in her brother's face. "I won't lose you!" He bellowed. Then, seeing her fear, he lowered his voice to a painful whisper. "I can't lose you. You are my sister. The only one who-" here his voice broke and he was forced to swallow the lump, unable to speak through his tears. After a moment he continued. "You're the only one who sees me, the real me. You are the only one who understands. No one. No one in the entire universe knows and loves me like you do. Sis- without you. I- I'll be alone again. I can't! I won't do it! Do you understand me!" He railed, his eyes had the haunted, frightened look of a child, a child who just awoke from a horrible nightmare and now needed comfort. "Only you share my burden, only you understand why Adam is- Adam. Don't you realize what that does for me, to just know you are out there, another sword bearer- my sister, and to know you love me and you feel my. my suffering.and you're not ashamed of me." He finished in a whisper as if embarrassed.  
  
She-Ra's heart ached for him. Even as she lay dying she wanted to offer him comfort. She smoothed his hair back, her own tears echoing his own as they both wept unashamedly.  
  
"I know you, brother. I know the pain you hide in your heart. I know how you suffer, aching for your fathers pride and respect and feeling nothing but his scorn and disgust. I know how you yearn to share all in your heart with Teela and earn again her friendship and trust. I also know you are a true hero. The heart within your chest beats with greatness and one day you will save your world as I failed to save mine. One day you will reveal to your father the hero you are and shadows of fake selves will slide off of you like unwanted specters of a shadowy past. I also know, you will never give up. Even when I am gone you will always fight and do what is right and just and necessary. Adam you are the hero I never was. I look to you brother, for strength and courage to go on. It is your light burning bright in the darkness of existence that has always guided me and relit the flame in my heart. You will endure brother. It is who you are." She-ra's face was alight with compassion and tenderness and something inside of Adam- who still lurked in the mind of He-Man broke, wailing in denial.  
  
"No, She-Ra. You're wrong. This time, you're wrong. I can't go back to being without you. I won't. Don't you see, knowing that you are alive, that you know me as you say you do. That is what gives me the courage and will to go on when father is at his worst and Teela at her most cutting. When I hear the guards laughing behind my back as they refer to me as the cowardly prince, it's okay because I know one person, just one person in all the universe knows me and who I really am."  
  
"Adam, She-Ra whispered, "I am not the only one who knows, you will not be alone."  
  
"Yes I will. They know my secret. They don't know me, the me inside. I always have to be strong for them. Can't you see, with you, only you, can I just be me!"  
  
"Brother." She-Ra whispered, unable to ease his grief.  
  
"She-Ra, He-Man!" A concerned voice yelled. It was Bow and bearing him with eyes wild with worry was her rainbow hued friend and companion Swift Wind. She-Ra felt a sense of peace descend over her and a smile of true happiness lit up her ashen face. Her sapphire eyes drank in the sight of the man she loved.  
  
He was thinner, she noted critically. His abdominal muscles were leaner, harder. A small feminine thrill of appreciation rushed through her. He had grown out his beard into a devilish looking goatee. It gave him a wickedly roguish cast that made her heart beat faster. His face was slightly gaunt, and large circles were under his eyes, as if he hadn't been getting enough sleep. She could see days worth of tension in the way he carried his shoulders.  
  
"Bow." She-Ra whispered. There was such tenderness, such a flood of love in the way she said his name that Bow froze, his eyes locking with hers. In that moment Bow realized He-Man was not holding She-Ra. He was holding Adora, dressed as She-Ra and she was hurt. Immediately panic flooded his limbs and were it not the need in her eyes drawing him closer Bow knew he would have fallen, unable to support his weight on his knees turned jelly with fear.  
  
"Adora, what were you thinking?!" He uttered harshly as he moved to her side, pulling her from He-man's unresisting arms and pressing her head against his chest. He-Man only allowed the archer to steal his sister from his arms because he was in shock, hearing the flamboyant rebel address his sister as Adora, not She-Ra. How did he know?  
  
She-Ra gazed up into the eyes of the man she loved and knowing she would soon leave him she pulled his head toward her. Time stilled. The world melted away. In that moment their was only the two of them. She refused to close her eyes as she placed her lips on his. His mouth was warm and soft as it yielded to her will. His arms were strong and full of life as they embraced her with a promise to never let go. His chest was so hard and firm atop her own soft and pliant one, she was overwhelmed with a bittersweet passion. Tentatively, she traced the outline of his top lip with her tongue. Bow groaned, taking command of the chaste waltz of mouths. His tongue plundered the recesses of her honeyed opening, dueling tenderly with her, tasting her deeply.. Taking her with a fervency of pent up longing and desire he had been unaware of till that moment. She yielded to the fiery onslaught, answering his passion with a call of her own. She watched his eyes close in ecstasy as his tongue danced with hers. He tasted of spice and salt. His smell was that of a man, strong and clean with a slight woodsy aroma, probably from the wax he used on his bow. Her trembling hands caressed the craggy lines of his face. He broke the kiss, catching her hand in his own. "What have you done?" He whispered with concern.  
  
"She is dying. If you don't quit pawing at my sister and allow me to take her to Grayskull then there is no hope." Bow paled.  
  
"Dying? No!" His panicked gaze turned back to his beloved, noting a small wince of pain on her face, the only movement of her otherwise unnaturally still body. "You little fool!" He snarled, even as he clutched her to him. "We do not need She-Ra so much that we need you pretending to be her and getting hurt!" He-Man was startled by the man's outburst.  
  
"Come if you like, but we need to get her to Grayskull now!" Bow followed the hulking man, unwilling to relinquish the prize he held in his arms. Swift Wind and Battlecat followed docilely, close behind. The five of them went through the portal.  
  
On the otherside in a large dark chamber, with only torchlight reflecting eerie shadows on the walls, awaited a woman who seemed to embody strength and compassion. She was tall, as tall as She-Ra, she seemed to be covered in some form of formal, spiritual attire of feathers, complete with a feathered headdress of the ivory plumes. A brilliant curved beak like that of an eagle framed by two, large, golden eyes seemed to gaze at him from atop the woman's head. Her torso was covered in ivory feathers, the snowy down accentuating her tiny waist and a feathered cape of blue and orange trailed from her shoulders to her ankles. Her boot's traveled up her leg, stopping mid-calf in a royal blue shade to match her cape. She was lean and soft and femininely curved and her clear blue eyes seemed ageless in her otherwise young face with a soft sculpted nose and high cheekbones.  
  
He-Man noted they had exited the portal in the Sorceress' resting chamber rather than the great hall of Grayskull.  
  
"Bow, welcome to Eternia. Please, place She-Ra on the bed." Bow did as the woman told him, taking great care to lay Adora down as gently as possible on the large mattress which was fronted by a teal headboard carved in the shape of a bird of prey.  
  
"It's not She-Ra, it's Adora." Bow said quietly. Not taking his eyes off of Adora's resting form. Her eyes kept closing, only to snap open moments later as if in panic. He closed his fingers tightly over her hand. He-Man moved to the other side of the bed, taking her other hand in his own. Both men had about them an aura of grave concern.  
  
"You must save her." He-man uttered harshly, finally taking his eyes off his sister to glare at the Sorceress standing so quietly at the foot of the bed. The Sorceress lowered her eyes from his hostile gaze, clasping her hands in front of her.  
  
"I can not. It is not within my power." She said it softly and with chilling finality. He-man and Bow both responded immediately.  
  
"What?!" Bow shouted. "She has no wounds! It can't be that bad. Can it?" His voice harsh in his own ears as his eyes traveled frantically between the Sorceress of Grayskull and He-man. He- man rose to his feet, withdrawing his sword, he plunged it into the stone floor.  
  
"If she dies so too does all your dreams of freedom. I will turn my back on you, on the kingdom and on He-man." His voice was laced with desperate grief as he continued. "I was just a boy, a child no less, when you in all your wisdom-" and he hissed the word with such venom the Sorceress flinched at the hatred she heard in it, even as she understood it was sorrow which made him speak so. "-saw fit to bestow upon me the title of heroic champion. I have endured much. I have fought non stop for nine years now to keep the forces of Skeletor at bay. My closest friends and family think me a vile coward. They are ashamed of me! I endure it all, never have I complained or balked at fulfilling my duty. I tell you this. If she-Ra died. He-Man dies with her." Bow stared at the warrior, not understanding.  
  
"He-Man, don't you understand, this is not She-Ra. This is Adora, Adam's sister. Why would you want to die unless-" Bow's jaw dropped, "your in love with her too!" He-man glanced at Bow in irritation before touching the hilt of the Power Sword. In a voice full of authority and command He- man cried out.  
  
"By the Power, of Grayskull!" He-man was surrounded by blinding and golden fireworks. Flashes of shimmering flaming lights seemed to surround and embrace his powerful form.  
  
"He-Man, no!" The Sorceress cried. Too late.  
  
"Let the power, return!" The Sorceress' face was a mask of stunned horror as He-Man transformed before Bow's astonished eyes. In his place was Adam. The fool hardy but well intentioned prince who courageously stormed the Fright Zone to save his twin, Adora, from the clutches of the Horde seven years ago.  
  
"I am He-man my friend." Adam said to Bow's shocked face, no hint of a smile in his voice as he sat again at his sisters side. "As Adora is She- Ra." He whispered in a broken voice. Bow could only stare down at the woman clinging to his hands.  
  
"It is time. Hero has come to collect her spirit." The Sorceress stated in an eerie whisper. Adora's breathing stopped. Suddenly at the Sorceress' side was a man. He was dark skinned and appeared to have large black, bug like eyes. He was also dressed in a garb, similar to He-mans. Dark furry shorts, dark furred boots he sat in a chair that seemed to hover over the floor. His dark facial hair curled giving him a wooly appearance. Adam looked up at him and hope flickered in his eyes.  
  
"Zodac!" He breathed.  
  
"Who?" Bow said in confusion. He-Man ignored him.  
  
"Zodac, can you save my sister?"  
  
"No, champion. I cannot." The man's voice was musical and compelling, in spite of his concern for Adora, Bow felt his eyes drawn to the man. "You however, may be able to help her, if it is your fate."  
  
"How?" Adam demanded. "I'll do anything to save her."  
  
"No!" The Sorceress gasped. "Zodac, I beg of you, leave it be. Adora broke the laws of the ancients, not Adam. He has his own Destiny." Her large eyes were full of fear and concern.  
  
"His destiny is not yet decided." Came the mans calm answer.  
  
"I'll have no part of this!" The Sorceress cried. "I've done enough, sacrificed enough. Asked enough of this boy! I will not ask this. I will never ask this." She then turned to Adam and placed her hand on his face. "Adam, please, think before you act. Remember there is always a choice. Think of what your sister would want." Adam tore his face from her hands.  
  
"I will do what I must to save my sister."  
  
"I will do what I must to save Adora." Bow said with equal conviction, his eyes hard as they glared at the man exuding an aura of unquestionable power. "I love her."  
  
"Yes. You will help as well. Adora will not willingly leave the place of spirits when she realizes what the price is."  
  
"Tell us." He-Man commanded.  
  
"As you now realize, there are protections placed upon the blades both you and your sister carry. These protections were necessary to insure no corrupt person ever gained influence over the powers placed in them. When your sister took a life using the sword of the ancients she set in motion events put in place centuries ago when the swords were created. Hero, the first bearer of a weapon of power helped forge these master weapons. He, and a nameless sorcerer foresaw the day when the universe would be troubled by a great and terrible evil. In that day champions would be chosen to wield the swords and protect the ideas of justice, mercy, freedom and life. The champions they foresaw were you, Adam and your sister, Adora. But Hero simply could not allow such powerful weapons to be unprotected and possibly used to destroy the very ideas he sought to protect. With the consent of the ancients he enchanted the blades to hold the powers of male and female. Only the less powerful, male weapon could be used to kill, to carry out final justice. And not without serious consequences to its bearer. You have never used your sword to kill, have you, prince Adam?" Zodac questioned. Adam shook his head.  
  
"Pray you never do. The day you kill using your sword you will experience the death of the person you slay a thousand times over."  
  
"Is that what is happening to Adora?" He-Man asked, his eyes moving to his sister's still form.  
  
"No. There is a greater penalty that goes with the woman's sword. The Sword of Protection grants much more than super strength to its emissary. It grants them telepathic abilities to commune with people and with nature. It has the ability to transform into any weapon the bearer desires. It has the ability to heal the injured and sick. It has but one rule to its use. Where the Sword of Power extends final justice to the wicked, the Sword of Protection offers them mercy. In this sword, Hero applied one principle that would be irrevocable and bind the bearer to their fate should they kill using it. By exacting the highest penalty for the taking of a life, Hero hoped to affirm the highest value on life." Zodac finished. Bow and Adam stared blankly at the cosmic enforcer.  
  
"And that means?" Bow snapped impatient.  
  
"It means a life for a life. This I cannot change. I can send you into the sword. That is where Adora's life force is being pulled to. There, in that realm between life and death there is a veil. You will know it when you are there. I will send two spirits into the blade. Only two spirits may emerge. You two, Adam and Bow, may enter the sword with my powers. Once you cross the veil there will be no turning back. Adora will be there. You must convince her to cross the veil with one of you. The other will stay behind and take her place. In this way Adora will live and she will be allowed to become She-Ra again, the law fulfilled, a life for a life." Adam turned to look at Bow, resolve alight in his eyes.  
  
"You bring her back." He said, his voice grim.  
  
"She'll never agree." Bow answered automatically his mind reeling. It all seemed so unfair. Someone would die tonight, there was no getting around it.  
  
"She doesn't have to know." Adam said firmly. Bow locked eyes with the young prince. He nodded once.  
  
"No, she doesn't." They both turned to Zodac. The Cosmic enforcer stood from his chair and walked to the seemingly slumbering princess. He withdrew the sword from her scabbard and lay it atop her still form. He then put her hands on its hilt. She looked like a warrior woman, laid to rest for her final sleep. Bow shuddered at the thought.  
  
"Place a hand on the sword both of you." Zodac commanded them. Neither hesitated. Their was a burst of light. The world faded.  
  
Bow found himself standing beside Adam in a place of white light. Nothing existed around them but empty whiteness. He looked down and though he felt the floor beneath his feet he still wasn't sure if it was there. Adam began walking. Bow kept pace. Suddenly he detected a ripple in the air in front of them.  
  
"That must be the veil Zodac was talking about. Bow said in hushed tones. Adam nodded. He then turned, looking Bow in the eyes.  
  
"You take care of her. Love her. I know that is the one thing she wants more than anything else in this world. To be loved. She never knew love as a child. She was raised to be a soldier. She had no friends or family. Anyone she became close to was eventually transferred. Love her. Someday, convince her we did the right thing. Let her know I have no regrets. This is what I need to do. I couldn't save her when she was taken from me the first time. I'll die before anyone takes her away again. Even death can't stand against me." He smiled. "I am the most powerful man in the universe." Adam turned to the rippling veil. "Adora!" He called. "Adora can you here me?" The white seemed to swallow his voice.  
  
"Adam?" A faint, frightened voice answered. "Adam is it you?" Then from the light came Adora. She was a vision of loveliness that took Bow's breath away. Bow stepped forward, crossing the boundary of the veil separating them. "Bow!" She cried, before launching herself into his arms. He held her close to him. Reveling in the feel of her body pressed against his, the rise and fall of her chest, the warmth of her skin. She drew back, looking into his eyes.  
  
"Why are you guys here?" She asked fearfully.  
  
"We came to take you home." Bow answered, raising one of her delicate hands to his face, kissing the back of her knuckles. She seemed to shine, he thought, like a delicate star he could hold in his arms. Adora stepped toward the veil only to be brought up short. He eyes flooded with tears.  
  
"You can't. I can't leave here. It's my punishment for killing." Bow enfolded her in his strong embrace. Smoothing his hand through her hair, kissing her head.  
  
"Shhh. It will be alright. We both came because we both have to be with you. Only with both Adam and myself can we create enough power to break through the veil holding you here." Adora leaned back and gazed excitedly into his eyes.  
  
"Really!" She gasped, not daring to believe it. Bow smiled.  
  
"I would never lie to you."  
  
"I told you the Sorceress could save you." Adam said, before stepping across the barrier. Adora turned from Bow and nestled into her brothers arms.  
  
"Oh Adam. I was so frightened. I knew I had to except Hero's judgment. He is here you know." She whispered, clutching his shirt in her hands, looking around in fear. "I know he is here with us. Watching us. I feel him." Adam held his sister tightly.  
  
"Little sister, you need never fear, I will always protect you." His eyes were sad as he looked down at her. Adora didn't notice however as she turned back to Bow. Flinging her arms around his neck she kissed him. Their mouths clung together in a frenzy of tortured passion. Adora pulled her lips from his to rain tiny kisses down his throat and on his face.  
  
"I love you!" She cried through her kisses. "I love you with everything that I am!" She pressed her body hungrily against his, burying one hand in his hair while running the other over the plains and valleys of his chest and abdomen. "I was so afraid I was dead and would never tell you how I feel."  
  
"I love you too. More than life my princess of power." Adora's eyes widened. Bow grinned, tenderly cupping her face in his hand. "All those times when I was torn over who I wanted, you or She-Ra. All the times one of you would torment me about the other. I really only wanted one woman. You. It was always you." Adora melted into his side, tears of happiness spilling from her long ebony lashes. She clung to him tightly.  
  
"Let's go home." She cried. Bow held her tighter for another second or two.  
  
"I think you need to pay your brother some attention." He said carefully, his voice strangely neutral. Adora laughed, delightedly. She turned to hug her brother. Adam clutched her tight, trying to think of a way to say good bye without arousing her suspicions when without warning he was given a powerful shove. Instinctively he clutched Adora tighter, ready to defend her against all harm. He and his sister fell through the veil separating the world of the living from that of the dead. Bow stood solemnly on the other side.  
  
Adam let out a roar of outrage. "No! Bow you fool, why? Why would you do this?!" Adam scrambled to his feet. Adora scooted backwards, not understanding what had happened. Adam rushed the veil, ready to switch places, but was rebuffed by an implacable, barely visible, rippling wall. He slammed his fist into the wall to vent his shock and fury. "Why? I thought we agreed! I was the one going to stay! Me! She needs you! She loves you, you bastard! How could you do this to her!" Adam railed.  
  
"Do what?" Adora asked, her joy fading to be replaced by creeping panic. "Do what, brother! What has he done!" Adora tried to cross the barrier, but found herself rebuffed as well. Shock settled over her features as the implications sank in.  
  
"No." She whispered softly. Raising anguished aqua eyes to Bow's sadly shimmering mahogany gaze she asked in a broken whisper. "What have you done?" Her lip trembled as horror swept over her. She knew, without being told. Her hands were splayed on the shimmering wall between her and the man she loved. Bow raised his hands, splaying his own atop hers. So near, yet so far. Bow smiled. It was a beautiful smile full of tenderness and love.  
  
"I did what you would have done in my place. I saved you. The only way I could." Adora gazed at him mutely. Adam ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"It was supposed to be me. Why?" He breathed. Bow answered, never taking his eyes off the woman he loved.  
  
"Because the woman I loved taught me to put others before my own wants. Etheria needs She-Ra as its champion more than it needs the archer, Bow. From what I hear, your planet needs its own champion. I was the logical choice to stay behind."  
  
"Bow, you sonofabitch! You never do the logical thing, you think with your heart, it's what I have always loved about you." Adora breathed painfully. Bow laughed.  
  
"I did it again sweeting. I thought, Adora will love again, but she only has one brother. When the war is over, go home Adora. Home to your family. Know what it is to be loved unconditionally. That is my gift to you. When you return home, after our world is free, your family," his eyes turned briefly to Adam, "your whole family, will be waiting for you." It was too much. Adora slowly sank to the ground unable to do anything but cry.  
  
"You take care of her. Love her. You know it's the one thing she wants more than anything else in this world. To be loved. She was raised to be a soldier. Show her how to be a part of a family. Love her. Someday, convince her we did the right thing. Let her know, I have no regrets. This is what I need to do. Remember your promise. You said you would die before anyone harms her again. And know this, death can't stand against me." He smiled. "I may not be the most powerful man in the universe, but I am the man who loves her." Adam nodded, unable to speak. Finally he bent to his sobbing sister, to lift her up. She fought him.  
  
"No!" She screamed. "No! I won't leave him!" She punched her brother, shoving him away from her. Adam was at a loss.  
  
"Adora," Bow commanded, his voice stern, "Adora, you have to live. You have to live for us. For me." Adora looked up at him, at his pleading face, a small whimper escaping as she shook her head no.  
  
"I can't leave you to this." She cried.  
  
"So our people will die slaves?" He bit out harshly. Adora reacted as if he had slapped her.  
  
"But I love you." She whispered, the words like a talisman. "I won't leave you to face the consequences of my actions alone.  
  
"I'm not alone. Never. You are here. With me. Always in my heart as I will be with you." Adora shook her head again.  
  
"No!" She grunted, it's not the same. Uh-uh. I won't do it, I won't go! I want to be with you!" She keened the last part even as she knew it was impossible. Bow stood abruptly.  
  
"Remember Adam," Bow spoke, his voice harsh and gravelly, "Love her."  
  
"Good Journey, my friend." Adam said, saluting him by placing a fist over his heart and thumping his chest twice before raising his arm in farewell. "Good Journey." Bow nodded curtly.  
  
"Free my people, She-Ra." His voice cracked. Adora looked up to see tears streaming from his eyes. In a softer, higher voice, cracking with emotions he begged her, "free my home." He turned and walked away, leaving her to gaze, stricken as he was swallowed by the white.  
  
"Boooooooow!" Adora howled. Like a mad woman, she rose, slamming herself into the veil. Over and over, screaming his name until her throat was hoarse and raw and she couldn't see through her tears. Sometime between Bow's departure and her loss of sanity Adam restrained her by the arms to prevent her from hurting herself. She fought him like a woman possessed, her only thought to get through the veil. Finally, Adam, exhausted by her struggling, hurting just as much as his sister, had enough. He threw her over his shoulders and turned toward the place where he and Bow started. The farther he walked the less real things became, until, quite suddenly, he was beside his sister in the bedchamber of the Sorceress. He looked up to see Zodac gazing solemnly down at him. A small cry drew his gaze to the corner of the room. The Sorceress was gazing at him, as if she didn't believe her eyes.  
  
"You live! By the ancients!" She breathed, her relief enormous.  
  
A sudden scream pierced the stillness. Adam turned to Adora, still She-Ra from the transformation. She had risen from her back to clutch the body of her dead love. Bow was still as stone in her arms as she held him, sliding to the floor. She clutched his unmoving body against her chest, supporting his head in the crook of her arm. She whimpered as she pressed her ear to his chest, hoping for a heartbeat. There was none. Adora began keening her grief, unable to prevent the cries of sorrow from escaping her chest. She felt torn asunder. The pain was worse than that of the botched transformation. Her soul was shriveled, a dead thing, except the pain burned so strong she knew it yet lived. She didn't know how to bear it so she screamed and screamed and screamed. Unknown to her, Adam placed his arms around her, cradling her, as she cradled the body of the man she had loved.  
  
Her screams tempered off to muted sobs of heartbreak. They were interspersed with her whispered pleas for Bow to wake up, to live, for her. She shook him and when there was no response she beat him on the chest, alternately begging him to get up and threatening his life if he did not. After a while she accepted that he would not rise but she could not let him go.  
  
"She-Ra." The Sorceress offered, standing at her side. "She-Ra, come away child. There is nothing you can do."  
  
"Get out." She-Ra whispered in a hoarse scratchy voice. The Sorceress froze. She looked at Adam. His eyes met hers briefly and he shrugged. "Get out! Get out! Get out!! I hate you! I hate this castle! I hate this sword! Get out! Get Out!" She screamed, her entire body trembling with raw fury. The Sorceress withdrew, hurt and compassion shining from her eyes. As she left, She-Ra turned her head and buried it in the crook of her brother's arm. She couldn't seem to stop weeping.  
  
"Child of Destiny." Zodac's voice spoke, breaking into the discordant, hiccupping sobs. "There is no time to mourn. He will be preserved, given a place of honor in the castles crypt-"  
  
"No! He will not be buried here. I will return him to his homeland. I will see him buried beneath his own world's soil where his whole world will recognize the hero and champion he is." Her voice was thick with venom. Zodac was unmoved.  
  
"As you wish but know while you sit here venting your hurt on those that love you, every second you wait, precious minutes are lost to those you once would have saved. Indeed their very lives lye in the balance as you sit here and lose your spleen." She-Ra's eyes widened in horror.  
  
"Glimmer! Ahgo!" She turned her wide gaze to her brother who held her as if she would break. "Brother, I must return to Etheria, to Brightmoon!" She turned her gaze to her beloved. Tenderly she placed a lingering kiss on his cold brow. He was so handsome, even death could not rob him of his charm. "Adam, prepare his body for me. Bring it to Mysticor. He will have a hero's burial as befits a champion such as he."  
  
"Of course, Adora." She finally, gently, released the body of the bowman, letting it slide to the floor. She turned, reached for her sword which lye on the bed. Disgust and loathing filled her eyes, her mouth curled in a sneer. She turned to the door, sheathing the blade and walked out to the corridor. She saw the Sorceress with her back to the wall watching her approach. The tender concern in her eyes tore at Adora's resolve to despise her. It was her fault Bow was dead. Her fault for not telling Adora everything about the sword. Well, Grayskulls guardian had kept her secrets. In the keeping she lost the trust of one of its defenders.  
  
"Send me home." She ordered, her voice cold.  
  
"As you wish." The sorceress whispered. She-Ra followed her to the throne room. Swift Wind anxiously awaited her arrival. He nickered in greeting. She-Ra lay her head against his thick warm neck. She struggled against the tears once again welling up in her eyes.  
  
"Before you leave let me ask you," the Sorceress spoke softly. She-Ra refused to look at her. "If you had known, would it have made a difference? I told you not to kill with the sword. When you did, did you think about what you were doing or did you simply react with passion rather than thought? If the answer is passion than tell me truthfully, would it have made a difference?" There was silence. Sighing painfully the Sorceress of Grayskull raised an elegantly tapered hand and a dimensional portal opened up. She-Ra mounted Swift Wind in one fluid motion. She did not however, order him to move. Her jaw clenched and unclenched and she had to swallow several times before she could speak. When she did there was hurt and hate and rage in her voice. She looked down into the gentle eyes of the Sorceress and drew her sword, resting the blade tip above her jugular. She didn't flinch. She-Ra's arm trembled with the effort it took to keep from pushing the tip forward just a little more. She spoke through her anguish.  
  
"We'll never know. Will we? You never gave me the chance. Did you?" Grayskull's Sorceress held the eyes of its female champion without wavering. In disgust She-Ra sheathed her sword. "I will finish freeing my people, but I will never again proudly call upon aid from the vaunted Grayskull. As for you- I never want to see you again." With a squeeze of her knees She-Ra and Swift wind rode through the golden gateway. 


	21. no title

Chapter 21  
  
She-Ra emerged from the shimmering portal just outside of Brightmoon castle. Swift wind spread his wings immediately, upon exiting the gateway, and leapt into the air. The cool wind dried her tears on her face as she took to the sky. Her dull gaze absorbed the images below her. People were eying her soaring form with wonder, awe and hope. Like fire, word of her return spread unchecked through the masses, the very air seemed to vibrate with awe filled intensity. Below her She-Ra saw a Brightmoonian guardsman watching her, slack-jawed as she passed by. With a gentle pressure from her left knee Swift wind whirled in the air and landed at the side of the young soldier.  
  
"Greetings. Take me to your princess and the troll king. I have heard they need to be healed and have come to lend what aid I can." She-Ra's voice seemed uninspired even to her own ears, but she couldn't seem to make herself care beyond the burning hole in her stomach. Funny, she thought detachedly, she had been under the impression that her heart was in her chest. The intense pain radiating throughout her body, however, spread forth from her guts.  
  
"They-re in the tents of healing, just outside of Brightmoon's gates. They couldn't be moved too far because of the severity of their wounds. The queen sits with her daughter even now." The soldiers voice dropped to a hushed whisper, "She does not expect her to live out the night. Indeed, dawn approaches from the east, you are probably too late and have arrived only in time to watch our princess die."  
  
"No. I will not accept that. Death has had too free a hand this night. It is time he pulled back his greedy paw and find himself sated. No more lives will be lost this moon." The soldier did not respond, but hope unfurled in his heart at the resolute tone in the champions voice.  
  
"There!" He cried pointing to a large lavender tent erected fifteen yards away from the wreckage of the city gates. She-Ra landed Swift Wind and dismounted swiftly, leaving the soldier to do the same. She spared a brief glance at the lightening sky above. The dark cobalt hues of midnight were retreating, followed closely by the sister tones of emerald and aqua as crimson fingers stretched hungrily forth-ward over the horizon. A gentle blush of tangerine toyed with the tempest of tones, easing their way over the heavens and She-Ra knew, with the instinct born to a true champion, that the princess of Brightmoon would not live past the disappearance of Etheria's three moons. Without asking permission, knowing none would be needed, the golden goddess of goodness shoved aside the dim tent flap and moved toward the knot of pain and exhaustion huddled near the rear of the tent.  
  
"She-Ra!" Angella cried, unable to get to her feet. She-Ra barely waved at her, her whole attention focused on the still, scarred form of her friend Glimmer and the unconscious form of the troll king on the floor near her cot. She-ra's questioning glance slid from the still form of Ahgo to the winged queen, in question. Angella answered the unspoken query, unable to keep the sorrow from her voice.  
  
"We found him thus in the middle of the night. He left a trail of blood across the ground as if he wanted to be by her side." Angella shrugged, "he was too heavy for any of the guards to lift and his own people are staying out of sight." She-Ra nodded, kneeling at the troll kings side. When her hand touched his back she felt the cord of life he strung between himself and Glimmer. She was startled. His own life hung by the slimmest of threads and he willingly used it to bind Glimmer to the world of the living. Her cold heart, hardened by the pain of the past hours softened and the warm blush of compassion colored her spirit once again.  
  
She would have to heal them both at the same time. She had never tried something like that before. Always before her healings had been one on one, and the pain was excruciating. But she knew to heal one would sacrifice the other as they were both too near death's door to last much longer. She-Ra welcomed the thought of the pain. Perhaps it would push her own far away from her. Death had stolen enough, gorged itself on the suffering of others. It would not have these two. It was time to see exactly what powers resided within Grayskulls champion.  
  
She lay a hand upon Glimmers chest and the other on Ahgo's back. Closing her eyes she muttered the words which would summon forth her power. Her skin crawled as they slithered silkily over her lips.  
  
"For the honor, of Grayskull. Let your wounds be healed!" The second the words escaped her the pain attacked her. She gasped in agony, unable to cry out as the pain of Glimmer's burns became her own. Her neck arched and hardened, veins bulging out from the tension as her human form took on enough agony to tear it asunder. Yet she held true to her purpose. The very air on her skin acted as a flagellant. She could feel blisters, swollen, full of sticky fluid, bursting to be popped and she could feel those that had popped, burning like a hundred tongues of angry flames in the breeze. Her body was alive with pain as if millions of hungry insects were crawling over her skin and devouring her live. Her back was on fire where Ahgo was injured. Nerve endings which had been ripped and damaged stung with blinding intensity. The pain was unlike anything she had ever known and She-Ra, princess of power, welcomed it into her warm body with all the ebullition of a lost lover. Their pain was a physical thing, it attempted to rend away her sanity as she took it as her own but it did not touch her heart.  
  
The pain left her cold. She brutally thrust her psyche into the heart of the savage torment and began to concentrate on the wounds.  
  
A dazzling shining gloriole of white light and energy engulfed the three forms as the power of Grayskull's chosen was poured into the bodies of the fallen. The ravening grasp of death was thrust forcefully far from the two prone forms as the power of a hero healed them. The Burns on the princess knit themselves together, new skin began to grow in place of the damaged. Scar tissue began to puff up over the more severe burns. The wound in Ahgo's back however was harder to heal. Matter had to be created from mere wishes for there was nothing existing to build upon and change. But after the bulk of Glimmer's wounds were healed and death no longer threatened, She-Ra focused her extraordinary abilities on healing the mortal wound on the troll king's back. Finally Ahgo breathed easily and She-Ra knew, both would live. She found herself suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue, but she didn't want to stop. Glimmer's scars needed to be healed. Ahgo stirred restlessly beneath her touch and She-Ra took her hand off him to direct all her energies on Brightmoons princess. The damage was healed but the physical flaws needed mending. The entire left half of Glimmers body was puckered with livid pink scar tissue. This would take much time to mend because of the sheer magnitude of area needed to be covered. Time she-Ra didn't have to give.  
  
Her healing radiance shimmered off, once, twice, and the third time, it did not come back. She-Ra, lay unconscious, in a deep slumber on the floor beside the two heroic figures she had healed. Ahgo pushed himself up and saw his princess stir. He spared a brief, grateful glance with the heroine who had saved her and him before he stretched out a large, fat finger and stroked Glimmer's puffy, scarred cheek. In his eyes she was beautiful. The most beautiful female in existence. And she would live. She stirred. Opened her eyes. She saw his big hairy face grinning at her and she smiled. She stretched. She yawned.  
  
"What are you so happy about, Lord Ahgo?" She asked, a hint of teasing in her voice. She slowly sat up and then gasped. "Mother! Mother what's wrong? Why are you weeping?" Glimmer scrambled off the bed, heedless of her torn and ragged clothing and wrapped her arms around her sobbing mother who seemed unable to speak. As Glimmer held her mother in her arms she glanced in askance at the troll king but he just smiled through a pool of his own tears and sat back on his haunches. He gently scooped up the slumbering She-Ra and placed her in the bed Glimmer had just vacated. Ahgo tried not to notice the creamy expanse of milky skin exposed on Glimmer's middle, or the smooth curve of her breast which peeked out from beneath her arm. The rosy whorls of the puckered scar tissue which appeared in patches all along her body did nothing to lessen her desirability in his eyes. Indeed they enhanced it. Her scars were a testament to her courage and her dedication to her people. She would one day make a truly great queen.  
  
Glimmer noticed She-Ra's prone form and began to get an inkling of just how close to death she had been. All she could remember is the desperate rage which had caused her to summon power she had not known she possessed to destroy as much of the horde as she could. She remembered the power building. She remembered the wild exultant surge of excitement as it built inside her and then a moment of fear as she lost control of it. Then everything went dark.  
  
Her mothers sobs seemed to heave from somewhere deep inside of her and then her arms reached up to clasp her daughter to her. Glimmer tried not to notice how tightly her mother clung to her neck and prayed that her vertebrae would not snap.  
  
"Shhhh. Shhhhh. It's okay mother. I am well. I am unharmed. Please, don't cry anymore." Angella gazed up with a reverent awe at the animated face of her daughter which had moments ago been so ashen and near death.  
  
"It is a miracle you live my daughter." Was all Angella could think to say. Glimmer wanted to smile but she could not. Not yet.  
  
"Mother, is Brightmoon free? Have we broken the siege?" Angella stood, pulling her daughter to her feet.  
  
"Come. Look, my daughter. Look upon our kingdom and your people." Angella led Glimmer to the exit of the tent. The two members of the ruling family stepped out of the dim and into the sun. All around them their were gasps of astonishment. A small buzz soon turned into a muted roar as the sight of the princess standing tall and fair as the moon at her mother's side, spread with unnatural swiftness over the countryside. People stopped what they were doing to simply stare at their queen and the princess. Others came running from the city to view the princess nobody believed would live stand proud and regal by their queen. Their was laughing and crying as strangers hugged one another in relief and young and old fell to their knees in wonder and joy. Glimmer didn't understand.  
  
"Mother what's going on?" Her voice held a note of nervous tension and Angella laughed in jubilation.  
  
"You, my daughter, have just given your people the greatest gift a ruler can give!" Her deep laughter rang out infusing the people with a joyful intensity as that sound had been absent for so long.  
  
"But mother I did nothing." Glimmer stuttered in consternation.  
  
"Oh not true. Not true, dear daughter. You gave them hope. You live. It is enough." Glimmer stared around her in bemusement. It seemed as if a dark cloud were lifting and everywhere light from the sun poured down with benevolent radiance. Glimmer didn't understand why everyone was so happy. The war was not won. Their allies were spread across the face of the planet. Some were unaccounted for. Onyx still rode with her honor guard and Hordak still held the upper hand in his bid for world domination. But all around her, her people were laughing. Their joy was contagious and she found herself smiling as well in spite of her misgivings. An endless line of people came forward to touch her hand to hold her close to weep on her feet. She was overwhelmed.  
  
For the time being the horde had been driven back from her home. Brightmoon was under siege no longer and for this day at least Glimmer gave herself over to the joy of being alive. Laughing Gaily she whirled around and grasping her mothers hand raised it high to the sky. They were alive. They were Free. Her kingdom and her people had hope. For now, for today, it was enough. 


End file.
